For the Price of a Soul
by Cookie Dust
Summary: When Vernon Dursley's abuse escalates to unbearable levels, Harry Potter makes a deal that gives him incredible power at the tips of his fingers. Ten years down the line he's going to have to pay for it, but a lot can happen in ten years. (Eventual HP/DM.)
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS**

This story contains a number of triggering issues, including child abuse, male-on-male rape and dub-con sex, self-harm, torture/violence, and forced abortion. Each chapter will have a warning at the beginning for relevant issues. There is also major canon character death.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Pairings:** Harry/Draco, including Draco/OMC and Harry/Draco/OMC. Background Sirius/Lupin and Hermione/Neville.

**Author's Note:** This fic is technically a crossover with the TV show _Supernatural_, HOWEVER the elements of _Supernatural_ are small and fully explained, so you needn't have seen the show to understand them and you shouldn't let it put you off reading. This is, very much, a Harry Potter fanfic.

**Chapter 1**

**Warning:** Child Abuse.

Harry Potter learns at a very young age that he Doesn't Matter. He quickly learns that no matter how much he cries, his aunt won't take him out of the small crib tucked in the corner of Dudley's room unless he needs a nappy change or feeding, and sometimes not even then. Sometimes his uncle comes and picks him up and shakes him until he falls quiet. Eventually he learns not to cry at all.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't understand why he's not allowed to play with Dudley's toys or why he's still in crib when Dudley's got a proper bed or why he's supposed to stay in it when Dudley's allowed to move freely around their room and the rest of the house, but he doesn't need to understand why. He knows that if he climbs out his crib, if he touches Dudley's toys, or climbs in Dudley's bed, then he'll get unkindly hauled up and dumped back inside his crib with bruises on his little arms and only his pale green blanket for company and comfort.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't get potty trained like Dudley, but he learns to control himself anyway. His nappies only get changed so often and he learns to hold it all in for as long as possible or suffer sitting in a soiled nappy for hours.

*FPS*

When he outgrows the crib, he's moved to the cupboard under the stairs and finally gets taken out of nappies. He's free to go between his cupboard and the bathroom as he needs, but he's still not allowed to roam the house freely. If he does, he gets a smack to the bottom and sent back to his cupboard with a scolding for being underfoot even if his aunt and uncle are doing nothing more than watching TV in the other room.

*FPS*

He's just finished from a bath one day and about to go back down to his cupboard when Dudley comes tearing out of his own room, bumps into Petunia, who stumbles and knocks Harry, who tumbles head first through the safety gate she just opened and falls head over heels down the stairs. Petunia shrieks. Startled, Dudley begins bawling. Vernon thunders out of the living room just in time to see Harry hit the bottom safety gate.

It bends, the solid metal stretching like elastic until it almost touches the hallway carpet before rebounding back and spitting Harry onto the steps. For several long seconds there's silence as the three Dursleys stare at Harry in astonishment, and then Harry opens his mouth and wails.

*FPS*

He isn't hurt much, just a few bruises that heal quickly. Petunia and Vernon fight over whether to take him to the hospital but eventually decide that, as there are no obvious broken bones and Harry appears fine, it's unnecessary.

Dudley asks questions about the bendy safety gate but his parents shush him. That day Petunia tells Harry to keep his freakishness to himself or they'll send him to an orphanage.

"What fweakiness?" he asks, confused. She doesn't answer.

*FPS*

A few months later Dudley learns how to open the safety and throws himself down the stairs. He gets rushed to the hospital with a broken arm and a gash on his head that needs stitches. The Dursleys leave Harry behind but when they get back Vernon jerks Harry out of his cupboard and smacks him across the backside so hard Harry screams. Between his sobs and the sensation of his butt being on fire, Harry just about manages to hear Vernon's warning about not "poisoning my son with your weird shit" as he's thrown back into the cupboard and locked in. Later, he discovers the reason Dudley jumped down the stairs was so he could bounce on the safety bars like Harry did.

*FPS*

Petunia doesn't talk to Harry anymore. She won't feed him, she doesn't touch him, and she barely even looks at him.

Vernon, on the other hand, makes a point of punishing Harry for the slightest misdemeanour, real or imagined. When Harry tries to get extra food to supplement the scraps he's fed as meals, Vernon smacks him so hard Harry can't sit for days. When Dudley knocks over a vase he blames Harry, who gets locked in the cupboard for two days straight. He has to pee and poop in the corner and the smell makes him sick. When Vernon lets him out, he calls Harry a disgusting freak and uses the garden hose to wash him off, refusing to let Harry use the bath.

*FPS*

When Dudley and Harry start pre-school, Harry's also put to work, Petunia telling him that if he's old enough to go to school, he's old enough to start earning his keep. She doesn't teach him how to clean, just gives him a duster or cloth and curtly tells him to get on with him. If he doesn't do well enough, he gets sent to bed with no dinner, and he quickly learns what he needs to do and how it's done best. It's exhausting work, but after the first couple of times he took a break and ended up falling asleep only to be woken up with a smack, he forces himself to push through and collapse only when he's back in the relative safety of his cupboard.

*FPS*

Harry only knows his birthday is on the 31st of July because when he'd assumed his birthday was the same day as Dudley's (after his aunt and uncle told him they were the same age) they were quick to correct him that not only did he absolutely not share a birthday with their precious Dudders, but that Dudley was a whole month older than him. (Harry didn't think a whole month really made much difference, but for them it might as well have been three years.)

*FPS*

He doesn't get birthday or Christmas presents and never has, so he's surprised to wake up on his fourth birthday and find a rectangular present wrapped in shiny blue paper with a small white card on the front that reads: _To Harry, Happy 4th Birthday_. He opens it in there, away from Dudley, to find a box with four figurines inside. They're eight inches tall, two men and two women. The names underneath each figure read: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.

*FPS*

The Dursleys' deny having bought Harry the present. Vernon tells Harry not to ask questions and Petunia still refuses to talk to him. Dudley tries to steal it from him but whenever he tries to pick up the box, it slips out of his chubby hands like wet soap.

Later that day Vernon tells Harry he's moving up into the spare bedroom. Harry's first instinct is to ask why but he knows better than to do that and hurriedly grabs his blanket and the figures from the cupboard. He doesn't want to give them a chance to change their mind.

*FPS*

That night Harry sits on his bed and just stares at his new toys. He hasn't yet opened the box. It's not flimsy, like the ones Dudley's Action Man figures come in; this box is sturdy, with a tough clear front that almost feels like glass. It's painted red, yellow, blue and green, with the names of the figures painted in black script along the bottom. On the top it says _Famous Figurines: Hogwarts Founders Edition_.

He opens it carefully and picks up the one named Godric. He has a large mane of brown hair, wears a brilliant red and gold outfit and has a little silver sword held up in front of him. Harry almost drops it when the figure smiles and moves. He clambers out of bed and set the figure down on the top of the bookcase. Godric moves across it, waving the sword around and fighting off invisible enemies.

Harry has to cover his mouth with both hands to keep down the laughter. He knows he can't let Dudley find out about this. He'd definitely want the toy for himself then and Harry doesn't want to lose the first present he's ever got.

He gets out the other three and puts them with Godric. Helga is a round woman with a kind smile and dark ginger hair, wearing a navy dress with a yellow cloak, and she carries a short brown wand in one hand and a golden goblet in the other. She waves the wand over her goblet and it fills with water, which she then offers to Godric, who's finished fighting his foe.

Rowena wears dark blue robes and has long black hair topped with a sparkling silver tiara. She also has a wand, lighter and longer than Helga's, and carries a book in her pocket, which she takes out to read. Salazar is a thin man with a long black wand and a grey beard that reaches the waist of his dark green robes. He has a gold necklace and a snake that crawls along his arms and around his neck.

Harry spends an hour just watching them, awed. When he gets tired he carefully puts them back in their box, wraps it in one of Dudley's old shirts and then puts it under the loose floor board beneath his bed, where it'll be safe. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

*FPS*

He has only a bed, an empty bookcase, and a small chest of drawers for clothes. He doesn't mind. It's more than he had before. A few days after his birthday Petunia brings home clothes from the thrift shop. They're still second hand, but at least they fit him properly which is better than Dudley's old clothes.

*FPS*

Petunia still avoids him as much as possible and never makes eye contact with him, but at least now he's allowed at the table during meal times. He gets less than half the proportion Dudley gets given but it's more than he was eating before so he doesn't complain.

*FPS*

For a while after his birthday, Vernon doesn't hit Harry. Sometimes he looks like he wants to but Petunia always hisses at him and they would both look around as though expecting someone to be watching from the corner of the room.

But early in September, Harry accidentally spills a bottle of milk and Vernon claps him round the back of the head—hard. Immediately after he pales and whirls, looking around the kitchen in a panic. When nothing happens, he relaxes slightly and looks back at Harry, who's somewhat dazed.

"Get out of my sight, boy!"

Harry runs.

*FPS*

Vernon doesn't touch him for another week, then he goes back to his usual ways. Harry half expects to get thrown back in his cupboard. He isn't sure what had scared Vernon into leaving him alone for a while but he wishes whatever it was would come back and scare him again.

*FPS*

Harry and Dudley start proper school that September. Harry loves it. There are two Year One classes and he and Dudley aren't put together. He likes learning English and Maths and Science and enjoys art lessons and story time and almost everything else about school. He especially enjoys talking to the other kids and not worrying about Dudley coming over to bother them... at least until break times. Break times are fine at first, but when it starts to become clear that Harry is learning and picking things up much faster than Dudley, they become the times of the school day when Dudley and his new friends pick on Harry, pushing him over or hitting him. The teachers step in most of the time, but they can't keep an eye on them permanently and sometimes they just don't catch them early enough.

*FPS*

A stomach bug goes around the school shortly before Christmas. Dudley catches it just as the holidays start, much to his and Harry's chagrin. Dudley's annoyed that he didn't manage to get any extra time off school, and Harry's annoyed that he has to listen to Dudley moan and whine, set up on the couch to watch TV all day. Harry still has to do his chores and he doesn't like being the subject of Dudley's attention when he's trying to do his chores and Dudley's bored and decides to throw things at him and generally be annoying.

*FPS*

When Harry catches the bug, he throws up all over the kitchen floor. Petunia makes him clean it up then banishes him to his bedroom with a bucket, telling him not to come out until he's stopped 'producing such disgusting fluids'.

*FPS*

Harry feels like he's dying. He's sweating terribly but he's freezing and his blanket provides little warmth. He sits in his room, shivering and sweating and waiting for death to come for him. The smell from the sick bucket makes him even more nauseated than he already is. There's vomit on his clothes and he peed himself.

When Death comes for him, he goes gladly, leaning into the soft fabric of Death's dark robes and succumbing to unconsciousness with a gentle sigh.

*FPS*

The next few days are a haze of odd smells and unpleasant tastes. Harry thinks he must be in hell. It's not so bad. There's no hellfire and brimstone (whatever that is) and even though it smells weird (like smoke and wood and the strange plants at the end of the Dursleys' garden) it doesn't smell bad. Harry finds it almost comforting, like... like home.

His aunt and uncle always said he was a child of hell.

*FPS*

He wakes up in his bedroom. He's tucked into bed, wearing brand new pyjamas, and there's a purple teddy tucked under his arm. Although the teddy is clean and looks brand new, Harry feels like he's seen it somewhere before. It feels familiar in his grip. Like it's _his_.

There's also a Christmas present at the end of his bed, wrapped in silver paper with the same white card that'd been on his birthday present, this time reading simply: _To Harry, Merry Christmas_. Inside is another box, this one titled _Famous Figurines: Potion Makers Edition_. This one had three women and one man, all of them accompanied by a cauldron and a small table with some tiny plastic objects that Harry assumes are potion ingredients, as well as two little potion vials and a stirring rod. When he gets them out, they stand over their cauldrons and toss ingredients inside, stirring the contents until each one had a different coloured liquid inside their cauldron.

*FPS*

The Dursleys' are in the living room watching a program about dinosaurs. Petunia notices Harry first and she stiffens. Vernon doesn't look up from his golfing magazine and Dudley's gaze is firmly fixed on the TV. There's new toys scattered across the floor and the bike Dudley wanted so desperately for Christmas is sat in the hallway.

Harry clears his throat. "Um... thank you," he says quietly.

Petunia wets her lips nervously. Vernon looks up. "What was that, boy?" he grumbles.

"I said thank you. For my teddy," he adds, lifting the bear. Dudley sees him move and looks around. At the sight of the teddy his eyes widen and he scrambles to his feet.

"Dad!" he whines. "Why does Harry get a new toy and I don't? That's not fair! I want a teddy! Why didn't I get a teddy for Christmas?"

He makes a move towards Harry but Petunia grabs her son, holding him in place, her eyes wide. "We'll get you a teddy!" she promises him hurriedly.

Vernon snorts. "Teddy are for babies! You're a big boy now, Dudley. You don't want a baby's toy, do you?"

Although he's speaking to Dudley, his eyes are on Harry and he sneers.

"Vernon!" Petunia hisses. "Remember what he said?"

Vernon grunts and turns his attention back to his magazine. Dudley points at Harry. "Baby!"

Petunia glances around the room like she expects someone to jump out of the walls and shushes Dudley.

*FPS*

Harry goes back to his bedroom, frowning. He can't remember much from the past week but he remembers black robes and the distinctive smell. He doesn't know where he was but he's pretty sure that it's nowhere in Little Whinging.

He gets his figurines but doesn't take them out of their boxes. He just lays them on his bed with the teddy and stares at them, questions flying through his head.

Someone had taken him away. The same someone who gave him the presents? The mysterious man that Petunia is scared of? Where had they taken him? Why had they taken him?

But the biggest question, the one that keeps him awake half the night, is _why had they brought him back?_

*FPS*

Harry names his teddy Kiwi. He isn't sure why, but it feels right. He takes Kiwi everywhere, never letting the bear leave his sight lest something should happen to her. Kiwi is a magical teddy. Dudley tries damaging her one day but no matter how hard he pulled and pulled, Kiwi's ears and arms and legs stayed firmly attached to her body.

But the really magical thing about Kiwi is that she talks. If Harry holds her close and buries his face in Kiwi's soft purple fur and whispers, "I love you," then Kiwi talks back, saying in a gentle woman's voice, "I love you, Harry."

Late at night when the house is silent and the room feels too big and Harry is lonely, he closes his eyes and whispers to Kiwi and pretends the answering voice is his mum. It makes him feel less alone.

*FPS*

Like at his birthday, Vernon doesn't hit Harry for a while after Christmas but it takes less time before he starts again.

*FPS*

When Harry's teacher notices bruises on Harry's arms, Harry tells her that they came from Vernon and social services are called. There's an investigation but Vernon and Petunia paint Harry as a liar and troublemaker and all it takes is a brief moment alone for Vernon to hiss at Harry that if social services take him away then he'll end up in an orphanage, and Harry quickly changes his attitude, saying he'd lied and the bruises were nothing more than the result of typical childish rough and tumble.

*FPS*

(Orphanages are the gateway to hell. They're dumping grounds for damned children, the only place on earth that'll accept the unloved and unwanted. You end up in an orphanage, you're damned no matter what you do with the rest of your life because all it takes is one night sleeping there and you're doomed to become a monstrous demon from hell who only looks human. Vernon had made it very clear on several occasions that whatever Harry thought of living at number four, Privet Drive, living in an orphanage would be much worse.)

*FPS*

Vernon doesn't touch him in the weeks leading up to Harry's fifth birthday. Harry tries to stay up all night and see the mysterious person that visits him, but he falls asleep and they've been by the time he wakes up. He gets another present wrapped in blue paper, with another box of figurines inside (_Hogwarts Headmasters Edition_), but instead of playing with them he shoves the box with the other two and doesn't touch them. He's angry at the person that brings them, angry that they bring him presents and scare his aunt and uncle but don't take him away for good or seem to care that Vernon still hits him, but has grown smart enough not to do it in the run up to his birthday. It's only days before Vernon starts again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The demon Crowley is from the TV show _Supernatural_. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warning:** Consensual Child-Adult kiss.

**Chapter 2**

By the time winter rolls around, Harry decides that it must be Father Christmas who's the one to brings him presents. Johnny Miller from his class tells everyone that Father Christmas isn't real and it's parents who buy people presents, but Harry doesn't have any parents and the Dursleys certainly aren't the ones who buy him them, so he figures that Father Christmas brings a present for the children that don't have anyone to buy them anything, even on their birthdays too, and that's why he didn't take Harry away. It wasn't his fault—even Father Christmas can't look after all the orphans in the world—and so it's okay for Harry to play with his figurines.

*FPS*

He plans to stay up on Christmas Eve to try and catch Father Christmas again. He won't ask him to take him away, but he wants to ask him to at least see about maybe finding somewhere else for Harry to live, or just finding someone else who can help Harry find somewhere to live. He's even prepared to give back his figurines and Kiwi (even though he really doesn't want to give her back) if it'll convince the jolly old man. But he remembers how hard it'd been to stay up on his birthday, so as an extra precaution he writes a letter and clutches it in his grip as he sits on his bed, listening eagerly for reindeer hooves and bells.

*FPS*

He falls asleep again, but something wakes him up before dawn. There's a silver-wrapped present (_Ministers of Magic Edition_ he'll discover later) on his bed and the letter's gone. He sighs unhappily and hopes the letter will be enough, that maybe when Father Christmas sees how desperate he is, and how willing he is to give up his presents (those he's got and any he might receive in future) then Father Christmas will find someone else to look after him. (But not an orphanage, he's careful to add. He doesn't want to go to one of those.)

*FPS*

He goes to use the bathroom but on his way to it he hears noises coming from his aunt and uncle's room, the door of which isn't quite shut properly. He hesitates, but when he hears angry voices coming from inside, he creeps forward, peering through the gap. It's dark and he can't see much, but he can see enough to make out the dark figure standing over Vernon and Petunia's bed, talking angrily but too quiet for Harry to make out what they're saying. Harry watches, not sure what he should do, but then the figure reaches into their pocket and draws out something that might be a knife, and Harry turns and hurries quietly but quickly down the stairs, rushing into the kitchen to grab the phone and dial 999.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't understand why, when the police have been and gone and the figure's vanished uncaught, that his aunt and uncle look so angry with him for calling the police. The kind police officer had congratulated him and told him he did the right thing and that he'd been brave, and Vernon and Petunia had nodded and forced smiles and choked out something about being proud, but as soon as the officer was gone and the street outside was no longer flashing red and blue, they turn angry glares on him and send him up to his room.

*FPS*

Vernon's abuse gets worse and Harry thinks it must be punishment for the incident at Christmas even though he doesn't think he did anything wrong. What does it matter if the whole street is gossiping about them? Someone had broken into their house and maybe tried to kill his aunt and uncle; shouldn't they be grateful he'd woken up when he had, before anything bad had happened?

*FPS*

He doesn't hear from Father Christmas. He doesn't know if Father Christmas replies to letters but his sixth birthday comes and goes (_Alchemists Edition_) with no word nor any sign that anyone's coming for him or doing anything to help him. He tosses his new figurines down with the rest without opening them, filled with anger. He's half tempted to toss them all out but he can't bring himself to do it. Whoever they're from and however unhelpful and uncaring they're being to his plight, he can't make himself throw away the only things that are his, not when he doesn't have much. Maybe the person who brings them doesn't care enough to help him, but they're not hitting him and they give him things, so that's still got to be better than the Dursleys.

*FPS*

The following September Dudley and his friends invent a game called Harry Hunting. Harry doesn't like this game, but thankfully he can get away from them most of the time. He can run faster than Dudley and his friends and he always gets away.

One day Harry's running from them and jumps over some bins, only instead of jumping over the bins he somehow ends up on the roof.

He gets in trouble for climbing on school buildings and no one believes him when he says he didn't climb up. The school suspends him for three days and Vernon beats him and sends him to bed with no dinner.

*FPS*

Harry decides later that night that he's a wizard. The Dursleys say magic isn't real but Harry knows that's not true—how else would his toys work or Kiwi talk?

He doesn't have a wand like his figures but he decides to try some magic anyway. There's no longer a safety gate on the stairs and he doesn't fancy jumping down them anyway, but jumping off the bed yields no results. He decides it must not be high enough and one day he climbs up a tree in the back garden and jumps out of it. The ground doesn't go springy and he sprains his ankle. Petunia is furious about needing to take him to the hospital and Vernon banishes him to the cupboard for a week. Harry doesn't try jumping out any more trees.

*FPS*

He decides to try something smaller. One of his classmates once spoke about a magician on TV who made people float and Harry decides that would be fun. People are too big and obtrusive, so Harry practices with his school work. Dudley's pictures get stuck on the refrigerator but Petunia doesn't even glance at Harry's work. Harry keeps them and practices making them float.

For the most part, his "practising" consists of staring at the papers and willing them to lift off the ground, or wiggling his fingers and saying nonsense words. One time a piece rose a few centimetres off the floor and he thought he'd done it but then realised it was the breeze from the open window.

*FPS*

On Wednesday evenings Petunia has book club and Dudley has football club. Harry's supposed to sit on the sidelines and watch, but the coach doesn't pay him any attention so Harry sneaks off to the library. He finds every book he can about magic. There aren't many, but all of them agree on one thing—performing magic requires control. Harry asks the librarian, Mrs Martin (a kind, sweet little lady who's willing to help with whatever he needs) how you got control. She tells him about meditation and teaches him how to do it.

*FPS*

Harry finds other books whilst looking for magic—books about demons and devils. He reads about deals and souls and summoning rituals. For now, he doesn't do anything with the information, but it's there, at the back of his mind with a niggling little thought about how he needs to start looking out for himself because it's clear no one else will.

*FPS*

Harry spends every free minute over the next few months practising his meditation until he can listen to Dudley's taunts without blinking an eye lid. He still can't levitate anything but he doesn't stop trying.

*FPS*

He doesn't try and stay up on Christmas night, nor expect anything other than another silver wrapped present, which he sticks with the others without even unwrapping it. His mysterious gift giver (and he's over thinking it's anyone as ridiculous as Father Christmas) can rot in hell for all he cares.

*FPS*

On his seventh birthday (_Albion Edition_, and the one from Christmas had been the _Greek Edition_; he cracked, too curious about them and annoyed at the unwrapped ones sitting with the wrapped ones) the door to his room is thrown open when he's meditating and Dudley's voice hollers, "Dinner's rea-"

He breaks off with a scream. Surprised, Harry falls painfully on his backside and spins to see what the problem is, but Dudley's just staring at Harry, still screaming.

Petunia comes running, scooping her son up and mothering him, asking what's wrong and checking to see if he's hurt. Dudley points a chubby finger at Harry and says, "He was flying!"

Petunia looks at Harry like he's the devil, slams his door shut and hurries downstairs. Harry just rubs his sore backside and wonders how he'd been flying without even realising.

*FPS*

When Vernon hears about the incident, he loses his temper and hits Harry right across the face, knocking him out of his chair at the dinner table, screaming at him to get out of his sight and calling him a freak.

Harry gets to his feet and walks away calmly. Inside he's scared and angry, but he remembers to control himself. It's what he's been practising for so long; he can't muck it up now. He goes up to his room determined to make himself fly again. So focused on his task, he doesn't even notice when he shuts the door without touching it.

*FPS*

He sneaks out that night to sit in front of the full length mirror in the downstairs hallway. He meditates with his eyes open and just as the sun starts to show through the smoky glass set into the front door, his entire body lifts off the ground and hovers several inches in the air. He grins widely, loses his concentration and drops. His butt hurts from hitting the wooden floor but he's too busy grinning with pride to care.

*FPS*

By the spring before his eighth birthday, Harry can levitate himself a foot off the floor with ease, fly Kiwi across the room to him without looking at her, and make a pencil write by itself.

*FPS*

The start of April brings Petunia and Vernon's tenth wedding anniversary. They have a party at the town hall. Vernon gets extraordinarily drunk and Petunia, embarrassed and furious, calls a taxi and sends him home. She also sends Harry with him; they'd only brought him along because Mrs Figg, as a guest, couldn't babysit.

Harry doesn't like going home with a drunk Vernon. As soon as they get back, he makes for the stairs, planning to hide in his room and play with Kiwi and his figures and keep as quiet as possible, but the trip has given Vernon time to get angry about being ejected from his own party and in typical Vernon manner, he lays the blame entirely on Harry. He doesn't even make sense as he shouts at Harry for causing trouble, but Harry's more concerned with the fists and feet that rain down on him.

*FPS*

Only when Harry's unconscious on the floor does Vernon realise that he's finally gone too far. His drunken mind panics, then races to come up with an idea.

*FPS*

He's got a broken arm, a dislocated jaw and fractured cheekbone, three cracked ribs, internal bleeding, and he's gone blind in his left eye. They have to do surgery to fix the internal bleeding and tell him the blindness is caused by a damaged optical nerve and he's lucky he can still see out the other. He finds out Vernon stabbed himself and claimed a burglar had come into the house, no doubt expecting it to be empty on account of the anniversary party, and Vernon had barely saved Harry from being killed. Harry says absolutely nothing about it and the doctors decide he's too traumatised and book him in with a psychiatrist.

*FPS*

His magic won't work anymore. He can't even make a coco pop lift out of a cereal bowl, let alone levitate himself or anything like that, and his mind won't settle enough for him to meditate.

*FPS*

The doctor tells him that with only one working eye, his depth perception and peripheral vision will be affected. He's told to practice throwing a tennis ball in bed, tossing it towards the ceiling to re-teach his brain how to perceive depth, and that it'll take time to get used to his newly limited vision.

*FPS*

Harry decides things have gone far enough. Vernon nearly killed him and then stabbed himself just to cover it up. Next time Harry might not be lucky enough to survive. It's clear there's no one who'll help him, so he needs to help himself.

*FPS*

The first Wednesday after he gets out of the hospital, he sneaks off to the library again during Dudley's football practice and rereads the book on demon deals. He finds out what he needs (black cat bone, yarrow plant, graveyard dirt, and a picture of himself) and uses the map at the reception desk to find the town crossroads. The closest that has ground he would be able to dig in, rather than solid concrete, is miles away, a couple of dirt roads used by tractors. He doesn't let the distance put him off.

*FPS*

He steals some money from Petunia's purse and skips school on the first Friday of May. There's a shop in town called Heads and Tails, a shop Petunia makes them cross the street whenever they pass it, fingering the crucifix around her throat. It sells the black cat bone and yarrow that he needs. The man behind the counter seems to be amused that a young boy would be buying such things, but he takes the money without question. He gets graveyard dirt from the church that the Dursleys take them to at Christmas and Easter.

*FPS*

He gets scolded for skipping school but as it's less than a week since he was released from the hospital and he's still got a cast on his arm, no one really wants to punish him for it. Vernon doesn't touch him, having scared himself with just what he's capable of, but Harry doesn't for one second think it'll last. Give it a few weeks and his uncle would go right back to beating him black and blue.

*FPS*

He goes that night and reaches the crossroads at nearly three the next morning. He's got a trowel from the garden shed and he digs a small hole at the centre of the crossroads and buries the Tupperware tub holding the items. He straightens up, unsure of what would happen next.

*FPS*

"Well, you're a little one, aren't you? Bit beat up, too."

He whirls. A man has appeared. He has a receding hairline, a black coat, and a cockney accent.

Harry straightens his shoulders. "I'm almost eight."

"And what would an almost eight year old want with a man like me?"

The demon moves and Harry turns to keep him in sight; his range of vision is severely reduced now. "The book in the library said I could make a deal with you," Harry says, then adds, "You are the demon, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes. Name's Crowley. And you." He stops, turning to face Harry, who sees that his eyes have turned completely red except for the black pupils. "You're Harry Potter."

"How do you know my name?"

Crowley smiles. "Everyone knows your name, little Potter. The Boy Who Lived is known to us even in the depths of hell."

Harry frowns up at him. "The Boy Who Lived?"

Crowley blinks and his eyes return to normal. "Yeah. Y'know—surviving the attack that killed your parents, defeating Voldemort. At least temporarily."

"My parents died in a car crash."

"Who told you that?"

"My aunt and uncle."

"They lied to you," he says.

*FPS*

Harry stares at Crowley. It's not that he doesn't know his aunt and uncle are liars, but about this? His parents?

He has dreams about his parents. Kind people who take him to museums and the cinema and the zoo. A father who plays football with him and reads bedtime stories. A mother who helps him with homework and cuddles him when he scrapes his knees.

"My parents didn't die?" he asks quietly.

"Oh no, they died," Crowley assures him. "Just not in a car crash."

"Then how?"

"You really don't know?" Crowley asks. "About any of it?"

Harry shakes his head. "Will you tell me?"

"Is that what you want to make a deal for?"

Harry doesn't even hesitate. "No. I want power."

*FPS*

For a long moment, Crowley just looks at him. Harry says nothing. Crowley sighs.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific," he says. "Political power? Physical power? Magical power?"

"I have magic. Or I did. I can't do it any more. I want... I want to be able to protect myself. My uncle, he... can you do it? Can you give me the power to defend myself?"

Crowley considers him. Harry stands straight under the inspection, fighting his natural instinct to make himself as small as possible. He can't let himself be weak in front of the demon. He needs this.

*FPS*

Crowley smiles. "I can do it, alright. The real question is, are you willing to pay the price?"

"My soul, right? That's what the book said."

"Not immediately, of course. You get ten years."

Harry nods. "That's a long time."

"I suppose for one so young, it is." He inhales deeply, smiles widely, and approaches Harry. "If you're sure then."

"Do I need to sign something in blood?"

Crowley laughs. "No, nothing so cliché. I just need a little kiss."

Harry's face scrunches up. "A kiss?"

"I'm afraid so. Just pretend I'm your aunt or something."

"I never kissed my aunt."

"Oh. Well then. Just close your eyes; it'll be done in a jiffy."

Harry eyes him warily as Crowley crouches down in front of him and leans forward. He instinctively leans away then forces himself to stop. He needs this power. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists, standing perfectly still. He feels a pressure against his lips for two seconds, then it's gone and he opens his eyes to see Crowley straightening up. The demon steps back a little and tugs his clothes straight.

"See you in ten years, little one."

Harry nods and watches him walk away. In between one step another, Crowley disappears without so much as a pop.

*FPS*

Harry looks down at himself, clenching and unclenching his fists. He doesn't feel any different. He doesn't look any different. He hopes Crowley was an actual demon, not just some pervert who likes kissing kids. Aunt Petunia had warned Dudley against disgusting people that stole children and did horrible things to them, but Crowley hadn't kidnapped Harry and the kiss had been just like Aunt Petunia kissed Dudley, so hopefully Crowley was telling the truth.

*FPS*

Halfway back to Privet drive his feet are aching and his legs are tired. He wishes he could still make himself fly, so he wouldn't have to walk.

His next step is inches above the pavement. He freezes, staring down at his hovering foot with wide eyes. He raises it then puts it down again. It touches the concrete. He lifts his legs, thinks hard about flying, and—

His whole body rises up. His eyes go wide and his hands fling out to steady himself. He rises off the ground, hovering almost a foot above it. A laugh escapes him.

He looks up, leans forwards, and then he's flying, soaring along, laughing at the freedom of having air beneath him and the wind whipping through his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He spends the day testing himself, exploring the extent of his new found power. Flying is the least of what he can do. He can turn pencils into worms with a wave of his hand, repaint his bedroom walls with a mere thought, have one of Petunia's freshly baked cupcakes in hand just by inhaling the smell wafting up the stairs and imaging it in hand. It's everything he ever wanted and more.

*FPS*

He can't heal himself. He tries to fix his eye and his broken arm, but no matter what he commands or wishes, his eye remains dull and useless and nothing happens to his arm to suggest it's fixed, although while it's trapped in a cast he can't really tell. He decides not to wish the cast away, just in case it's not fixed.

*FPS*

He jumps when Dudley slams his door open. Whatever his cousin is about to say dies before it reaches his lips. He stares around Harry's room with his jaw hanging. Harry's walls are the colour of the ocean, with shoals of fish and clusters of seaweed and huge sharks that swim around the room, his own personal sea life display. Dudley is speechless, a first in Harry's memory.

*FPS*

The bathroom door opens and Vernon's heavy footsteps approach Harry's bedroom on the way to the stairs. In the seconds it takes Vernon to reach Harry's open doorway, all he can think is _hide me._

He's always been scared of his uncle, but he hated and was angry at him too and the hate and anger was always stronger. Now the fear is stronger, and he hates that but he doesn't know what to do about it, so all he can do is focus on the fear and the desperate need to make sure his uncle never does anything so bad to him again, and for now, that means hiding himself completely.

*FPS*

Across the country, a spinning top in the headmaster's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stops spinning and clatters to a halt on it's spindly-legged table.

*FPS*

Only when Vernon stops behind his son and gapes at the room does Harry think to change the walls. The fish disappear like they're being sucked into the wall itself until the room is back to the bland magnolia it normally is.

The two Dursleys look around with identical expressions of uncomprehending shock. Their eyes pass over Harry blindly, unseeing. He doesn't move, just in case.

"Dad, did you see that?" Dudley whispers.

Vernon swallows loudly. He pushes Dudley aside and steps into the room. Harry scuttles back. His footsteps make no noise on the wood floor.

"Dad?"

Vernon turns to him. "Nothing. I saw nothing, and neither did you."

"But—"

"Nothing," Vernon repeats in a tone he's never used on his son before. It silences Dudley. "You didn't see anything, son."

Dudley nods. They both leave. Harry doesn't move until he hears the _whump_ of Vernon dropping onto the sofa and Dudley beg his mother for a cupcake,

*FPS*

"Boy!"

Petunia discovers the missing cupcake. When Harry doesn't respond to her shouts, Vernon thunders up the stairs to fetch him. Harry remains invisible. Vernon scans the room, checks under the bed, checks the other rooms, then looks again in Harry's room. When he heads downstairs again, his face is pale. Harry follows.

"Petunia," Vernon hisses to his wife, closing the door so Dudley, in the living room, won't hear them, "did you send him out?"

"The boy? No, I haven't seen him all day."

"He's gone."

"What?"

"He's not here. He's gone."

Petunia has to sit down. "Are you sure?"

Vernon nods. "No sign of him. He's gone. Done a runner." He swallows thickly, straightens his shoulders and adds, "Good riddance, I say."

"What about... _them_?"

Harry who no idea who _they_ are, but Vernon clearly does.

"It's not our fault," he says, though he doesn't sound certain. "The boy ran off. What were we supposed to do?"

Petunia purses her lips and folds her arms, fingers tapping worriedly. "What do we tell the school? We've got to report it, Vernon. What will the neighbours think?"

"The neighbours know he's a troublesome kid. We'll play it right, say he was difficult, terrible trouble. Just another brat with no respect for authority. It's not our fault, pet. He's the one causing this mess. We're just the victims."

Petunia nods, and Harry leaves.

*FPS*

He steals a back pack from Dudley's room. He puts in some clothes and his baby blanket then, after some hesitation and thinking, he shrinks his figurine boxes just by putting his hands on either side and pushing gently, and then puts them in too. He carries Kiwi with him. He keeps himself invisible and makes Kiwi and the bag unseen too. He doesn't know why he didn't pack up and leave sooner, that morning as soon as he'd got back. Maybe even earlier. He should have done this long ago, but at least now he's got unlimited power to help him, and with nowhere to go and no clear idea of what he's doing, he thinks he'll need it.

*FPS*

He leaves through the window, flies to the end of the street and walks from there. He doesn't let himself be seen just yet. Small seven year old boys aren't meant to be walking along on their own and he doesn't want someone calling the cops, or some child snatcher grabbing him.

He goes to the bus station and sneaks onto the next one to Guildford. There, he catches another bus that takes him to the train station. He steals a magazine and a bottle of water from the shop and reads as he waits for the train to London. To him, it seems the obvious place to go when he has nowhere else; it's the capital city and if he can't make a life for himself there, where can he?

*FPS*

London is _massive_. It's full of people. Harry gets bumped several times just leaving the station. In the street there are even more people.

He picks a direction and walks. After a long while he finds a market place, where he steals two apples and finds a tucked away spot to eat them. Being invisible meant a lot of people tended to walk into him, and he had to constantly hop aside to get out of people's way.

*FPS*

After a few trips on the underground, a couple of bus rides, and several more hours wandering, Harry finds a street full of derelict houses where the homeless congregate. There are plenty of rats but Harry doesn't mind. He ventures into one of the houses, finds a ratty mattress and settles down. All the walking has worn him out and he falls asleep instantly, too tired to worry about his situation or what he's supposed to do with himself from now on.

*FPS*

He wakes up to find a man trying to take off his clothes. He screams and flings out a hand, thinking only _get away from me!_ and the man is thrown away from him, flying through the air until he hits the wall with a thud and a groan. Harry scrambles to his feet, does up his trousers, grabs Kiwi and his bag and makes himself invisible before jumping out a glassless window and flying up to the rooftop. He clambers across it, his heart racing with fear, and jumps to the next one. He moves across them like that, not even pausing at the larger gaps because he doesn't want to lose his nerve and stop. Only when he reaches a market place does he levitate himself down to the street and start walking, stealing an orange, a handful of sweets, and a bottle of coke. He decides he's better off just staying invisible permanently. What does he need to be seen for anyway?

*FPS*

He changes his name slightly. He doesn't want to be Harry Potter any more. Harry Potter was a pathetic little freak who got hurt by the only family he has. He was insignificant and weak and unloved.

Harry Evans is none of those things. Harry Evans is a tough, self-sufficient wizard. Harry Evans doesn't let anyone hurt him and can do anything he sets his mind to.

*FPS*

He sleeps on streets or in abandoned buildings. It's unpleasant at first, until he realises he can touch a finger to the floor and tell it to become soft and it will. His magic isn't like any he's read about in books at the library—he has no wand, no magic words, no spells; he just wishes for something and it happens, so he calls it Wish Magic. With it he can keep himself warm and dry, keep himself and his clothes clean, and keep his hair at a manageable length without ever having to cut it. He lets it grow out a little; the Dursleys had always made him keep it trimmed short—not buzzcut short, but not as long as he'd like it—because they said only girls had long hair, but he lets it grow until it's almost touching his shoulders.

*FPS*

The doctors had said his arm cast would come off after six weeks. Harry keeps it on for seven, just to be safe, then magics it away, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant smell and the slough of dead skin clinging to his arm. He washes it off in the sink of a public toilet and it seems to be just fine. He wonders if that's because of natural healing or because he'd Wished it fixed. He doesn't fancy breaking another bone just to find out though.

*FPS*

A week after Harry Potter vanishes from Little Whinging, someone breaks into number four, Privet Drive and brutally assaults Vernon Dursley. He's hospitalised with a broken arm, a dislocated jaw, three cracked ribs, and internal bleeding. When he's released from the hospital, the Dursleys move out of number four, Privet Drive, both ashamed of the negative attention Harry's disappearance caused and fearful for their safety.

*FPS*

He frequents libraries so he can keep learning even without school; he doesn't want to become an idiot and it gives him something to do during the day. He steals from shops and market stalls (easy when no one can see you) and sleeps anywhere he can find shelter. His magic can't create food, only transport to him food that already exists, but he can conjure almost anything else. His backpack and Kiwi go everywhere with him.

Books are his salvation. They teach him about the world and distract him during his bouts of loneliness. He'd tried being visible a couple of times, to join the other homeless kids, but the first time some woman tried to kidnap him, and the second time a man had leered at him and offered him money if Harry let him touch his privates. He decides he'd rather be invisible and alone than visible and have to keep watching out for kidnappers and perverts.

His favourite topic to read about is history. He likes reading about old kings and queens, wars from centuries ago, the hardships and struggles from times before electricity and the ways people nevertheless made a good life for themselves. Science is interesting but when he can break half the laws of physics with just a click of his fingers, it doesn't seem so important, although sometimes he likes to read about it just to see if he can defy it. Maths is hard and he teaches himself only enough that he can do the basics; anything more complex he finds too difficult to learn just from books, and gets annoyed when he tries.

*FPS*

It's a year before he starts to admit there's something wrong with him. He keeps blacking out. He doesn't pass out, but he'll be in the middle of something and then he'll realise that minutes have passed. It doesn't concern him much at first, he thinks it's just his attention drifting, but after a few times when he doesn't just drift off, but passes out and wakes up with a headache, his tongue and cheeks bitten, and his right side feeling weak, he's forced to admit that whatever's causing it is definitely more than just attention loss.

Epilepsy fits his symptoms more than anything else and he spends a while worrying about it after reading about the different kinds of seizures—focal seizures, which he thinks might explain when he looses minutes of his time; tonic clonic seizures, which he's pretty sure are the reason he passes out and wakes up feeling crappy; and absence seizures, which he's not sure if he has or not as they're only brief moments of attention loss. He thinks about going to a hospital or doctors surgery, but he'd never get medical attention without an adult accompanying him. Eventually he decides there's nothing to be done and convinces himself that it'll be fine. He's managed until now; he can manage for longer.

*FPS*

There's some confusion and minor panic at Hogwarts when Minerva McGonagall goes through the list of possible students for the upcoming year, and finds the name Harry Potter missing. She checks the math, but he's definitely meant to be on it for the next year. There's also a name, Harry Evans, with no address. The list automatically picks up a location on students, but by Harry Evans there's only blank space, something she's never seen happen before. It's Dumbledore who considers that perhaps Harry Evans _is_ Harry Potter. It doesn't help them find him, but it does explain why Harry Potter's name has vanished.

*FPS*

It's shortly after his eleventh birthday when he finds the Leaky Cauldron. He's walking along, trying to decide whether he wants to go to the library and read or to the local hangout for teens and scare them by pretending to be a ghost, when it starts to rain and he ducks into the pub for shelter before he can get completely soaked.

He doesn't think much of it at first. The pub's patrons might be a little weirder than usual (there's a lot of cloaks instead of coats and there's just a general air of _different_ to them all) but it's warm, dry, and someone's left half a cottage pie unattended on a table. He takes the entire plate and accompanying fork, tucks himself in a corner to eat it where he won't get bumped, then leaves the now empty plate on the same table he'd taken it from.

There's a second door out of the pub which he assumes leads to a garden for outdoor drinking, at least until he goes to check whether the rain's easing off and looks into a small courtyard just in time to see a hole appear in the brick wall, widening until it's large enough for a haughty-looking blonde woman and her pointy-faced son to walk through and go into the pub. He hops out the way then quickly goes through the hole before it can close. He stops on the other side, looking around at a street unlike any he's ever seen in London.

*FPS*

Harry walks along, inspecting the shop displays, astonished by the strange things in the windows. Stacks of cauldrons, obscure plants and insects in jars, broomsticks, owls, robes, and all manner of bizarre instruments. The ice cream flavours at the ice cream shop include several that he never would have even imagined, the sweet shop sells nothing he's ever seen before, and the toys in the toy shop are more extravagant than anything he'd dreamed of playing with. When he sees a display of _Famous Figurines_ and realises there's plenty more sets that he doesn't have, he's very tempted to break his rule about only stealing what he needs, but he makes himself turn away without taking one.

*FPS*

He hasn't received another Christmas or birthday present since he ran away from the Dursleys. Clearly whoever brought them couldn't find him. It made him a little sad. Admittedly the whole point of running away and living invisibly was to hide himself, but however angry he'd ever been at his mystery gift-giver, they were still the only indication that there was someone, somewhere, who thought about him just a little fondly.

*FPS*

Flourish and Blotts delights him. Books shelve themselves and hover off the floor unquestioned, there's titles that don't even make any sense, and every single book in there is about magic.

He's always assumed there must be other magic people. He'd been able to do magic even before his demon deal so he'd figured he couldn't be the only one, that there had to be others, and sometimes he dreamed about finding them, joining a secret society of wizards like in his books, but a part of him never really believed it and thought he'd be alone forever, but now he knows he won't. He's finally found somewhere he might be able to fit in and for the first time in years he's thinking about making himself visible permanently.

He finds a book called _Hogwarts: A History_ and instantly knows it's what he has to read. For years Hogwarts has been a legendary place of magic and wonder, a place Harry's dreamt of going to since he was four years old. Now he can finally find out more, learn if it's everything he dreamt it would be.

*FPS*

It's everything and more. Harry's not even a quarter of the way through the massive book, but he's decided he's going to Hogwarts. He doesn't even care that he never got a letter. He should have, he thinks. He's more than magical enough but maybe it just couldn't find him while he's been invisible all this time, not to mention homeless. He'll sneak onto the Hogwarts express. He wants to see the castle, to explore its corridors and sleep in its dormitories. He doesn't know which house he'd be in but he likes Slytherin because it has a snake for a symbol, even though the Gryffindor lion is pretty cool and Godric is his favourite figurine of all the figures he's got. He wants to learn about charms and transfiguration and potions, even though he's sure he can do anything they would teach with just a wave of his hand. He wants to become a real wizard.

*FPS*

Two days after discovering Diagon Alley, Harry reads about himself. He learns about Voldemort and the truth behind his parents' death. He learns about his own history and his nickname and the legend that is Harry Potter.

He doesn't return to Diagon Alley for three days. He wanders normal—Muggle, he remembers—London and thinks about himself and what the books say about him. He wonders why he ended up living on the streets if he's such an amazing wizard, wonders why he'd been put with the Dursleys' in the first place, wonders what the wizarding world would think if they learnt their hero was a street rat. At least now he understands the things Crowley said when they made his deal.

*FPS*

He returns to Flourish and Blotts to read more, learning about the war against Voldemort, but avoids as much as he can about himself. He isn't Harry Potter any more. Harry Potter got left in Little Whinging. He's Harry Evans now and Harry Evans isn't a hero. He's just a boy looking out for himself.

*FPS*

He visits Diagon Alley regularly over the next few weeks, learning everything he can from the books in Flourish and Blotts, visiting all the shops, and occasionally stealing left over ice cream from outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

*FPS*

On the first of September, Harry goes to King's Cross station early. He doesn't want to risk missing the Hogwarts Express and he knows that King's Cross can get busy. He already knows how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters, having read about it, but he loiters on platform nine and waits until he's seen several people slipping through the stone wall before he tries it himself.

*FPS*

Harry's never been interested in trains much. They got you places and that was all that mattered, but the Hogwarts Express is beautiful, he has to admit that much. It's a large red steam engine with a long tail of carriages and something about it just screams magic. There's no denying that this machine was taking its passengers to a place far more interesting than Birmingham or Manchester or York.

*FPS*

Harry boards the train and settles in an empty compartment, watching through the window as children say goodbye to their parents. Other kids run up and down the train's corridor, shouting and laughing. For a second Harry doubts his decision to get on a train that will be crammed with children for the next six or so hours, but then he sees an elderly woman wave a wand and levitate a trunk onto the train and he knows he has to do this.

*FPS*

Twenty minutes before the train is due to leave, a weedy looking boy about the same age as Harry enters the compartment, carrying a book and wearing robes without a house crest on the front. He shuts the door against the noise of the corridor and sits down opposite Harry with a sigh. He opens his book and begins to read. Harry tries to see what it's called, but he can't read the title without alerting the boy to his presence. Whatever it is, it makes the boy snicker regularly.

Harry slips out when several other students enter the compartment ten minutes later. He doesn't want to get found and he hides in the first bathroom he finds until the train sets off. When he hears the engine whistle and the first jolt of movement, his heart jumps into his throat. This is it. There's no turning back now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It takes less than an hour for Harry to decide that he does not like the Hogwarts Express. There isn't enough space on it for him to get around without bumping into people. There are children everywhere and an aging woman with a trolley comes down the carriages selling pasties, sweets, and drinks. Harry steals a handful of sweets and a bottle of orange juice. It's no easy task. Children seems to follow the cart as it progresses along the train, asking for all manner of chocolates and treats that Harry had never heard of before he discovered Diagon Alley.

He likes the Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, even though he sometimes gets some really nasty flavours. There's a certain thrill in sticking your hand in the box without looking and never knowing what you're going to get.

*FPS*

Harry keeps moving. It's easier to avoid people when he doesn't stay in one place. There's nowhere on the train he can stay without getting found, so he roams up and down the train, popping into the occasional carriage. He meets (so to speak) some interesting people in the process. Two identical ginger-haired boys called Fred and George are the most memorable. He first sees them getting told off by a prefect for doing something with an exploding balloon. Barely an hour later he comes across them slipping some kind of potion into a bottle of juice, which they then give to their unsuspecting younger brother called Ron. He drinks it and promptly starts burping large pink bubbles.

When Harry passes the carriage he'd first entered, the weedy boy in has been joined by a handful of other students—a blond, pointy face boy who Harry remembers seeing the first time he ever visited Diagon Alley; two thickset knuckle-heads stuffing their faces with junk; a pug-faced girl who laughs at everything the blonde boy says; and a bored but unremarkable looking brunette girl.

There's also Neville, who loses his toad, and Hermione, who helps him search for it, and all manner of other children that, at first, Harry's delighted to watch and listen to, but eventually he just wishes he could get off the train and away from them all, because it's depressing to see all these people being friendly with each other and not being able to join in.

*FPS*

Harry's never had a friend. Since making his own way, he's never really even spoken to anyone. People didn't make a lot of conversation with invisible people. Sometimes he wishes he knew what it was like to have someone you could call a friend. But he always decided that invisible was simply safer, no matter how lonely it was.

*FPS*

It's dark when the train finally pulls into a station. Harry's never been so glad to see a platform. He's desperate to get off the train and get somewhere quiet and alone. Spending six hours in a confined space with a couple of hundred children is exhausting.

But even though he wants to find somewhere to curl up and sleep, he knows he can't. He's too close to his goal. He's nearly at Hogwarts and he's not going to risk missing it now. So he follows the rest of the kids off the train—one of the last to disembark—and follows them down the platform. At the end, a giant of a man stands with a group of the smaller kids and calls out, "Firs' years!" in a booming voice.

Harry looks between the small group with the giant and the mass of students heading in the opposite direction. It's an easy choice. For all the giant's size, he seems friendly, and Harry's spent enough time around people today. The fewer people there are, the happier he is.

The giant leads them down a path to a lake. Harry stops in mid step when they turn the last corner of the path, his breath catching in his throat.

The pictures in _Hogwarts: A History _hadn't done justice. The castle is breath-taking. A huge, sprawling, sparkling mess of turrets and towers and walls. It's incredible. He can almost hear it calling out to him, he swears. This is more than just a castle. There's magic in the very foundations.

He spends so long staring at the castle that he almost misses the boats. He notices them just as the first ones set off and takes to the air to follow them.

*FPS*

At the other side of the lake they clamber out of the boats and follow the giant up a set of stone steps, through two massive doors and into the castle foyer where they're greeted by a tall, stern-faced witch in forest green robes. She smiles politely as they gather in the foyer and the giant disappears, then she leads them across to a door and into a side room.

Harry stays by the door as the witch faces the rest of the children. He wants to go explore—though he has no idea where to even begin. It'll take him forever to explore this place, but he's already decided that he will discover every secret the Hogwarts castle has.

But he knows what's going on. In the Great Hall across the foyer, the other students would be gathered waiting, and soon the first years in front of him would be sorted into their houses. He read all about it in _Hogwarts: A History_, and sure enough the witch—who introduces herself as Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor—gives a little speech about the houses and house points and the house cup before telling them to wait for her a moment.

She leaves and conversations break out as the students begin discussing ideas as to how they would be sorted. _Hogwarts: A History _was notably vague about the sorting, so Harry had no more idea about what would happen than the rest of the children. Some of the ideas were unbelievably ridiculous, but they all shut up when several pearly figures drifted through the wall above their heads.

Harry's read about ghosts, but that doesn't prepare him for the sight of seeing these grey, semi-transparent people suddenly float through solid bricks. At least he doesn't scream, like a few of the students. The ghosts just wave and say hello and carry on their way like everything was normal—which, Harry supposes, it probably is for them.

*FPS*

The Great Hall is almost as breath-taking as the view of the castle outside. Harry trails after the first years and McGonagall, taking in the floating candles, the towering windows, and of course the cloudy night sky above them. Knowing it's an enchantment and not the real thing doesn't make it any less impressive.

At the end of the hall is a small stage with the teachers' table, and a three legged-stool topped by a raggedy hat. When it opens it's brim and begins to sing, Harry jumps.

*FPS*

When the first boy goes up to get sorted, Harry's stomach turns. He isn't going to get a chance to find out what house he belongs to. For the first time, he second guesses his decision to come to Hogwarts. He thought he could find somewhere he could fit in, but how can he? He's invisible, unknown, and unwanted. He might be at Hogwarts be he'll never be a student—he won't find a family in one of the houses, he won't be able to join in with classes, he won't be able to make friends or complain about homework or sneak out on midnight adventures with his dorm mates.

Hogwarts might be a place of magic and wonder, but it was no more his home than the streets of London.

*FPS*

He follows McGonagall out of the hall after the sorting, exiting through a side room. McGonagall leaves the stool and the hat there, presumably to be returned to their respective homes at a later time, and returns to the hall. Harry is about to leave through the room's second door but stops.

The hat sits motionless on the stool. For the last hour it's been sitting on heads and shouting out houses. He doesn't know how it works but he thinks the hat must be sentient. The houses aren't picked at random so the hat must be intelligent to some level; surely a spell alone wouldn't be able to accurately choose a person's house?

He approaches it. Could he...? No. Even if the hat did... he couldn't really join any of the houses. He'd never be a part of them.

He reaches out. The hat is old, the material cracked and worn, full of wrinkles. He hesitates. Should he? He's curious about what the hat would say, where it would put him, but at the same time he isn't sure he want to know there's somewhere he _could_ belong but can't.

*FPS*

_Well now, this is interesting._

He can't help himself. He puts the hat on and almost jerks it off again when the voice rattles inside his head.

_You've been missing for a long time, Harry Potter._

"That's not my name," he tells the hat.

_No, I can see that,_ the hat says thoughtfully.

"Are you going to sort me?"

_What would be the point of that? You don't need sorting._

He knew it. He didn't belong anywhere. Even a talking hat knew he didn't belong.

_You're quick to jump to conclusions, Mr Evans._

"You said—"

_That you don't need sorting. You have a place to belong; everyone does. You just need to find it. I think you'll find it closer than you think._

"What do you mean?"

_You'll figure it out. For now, take advantage of this opportunity. You're in the best magical school Europe has to offer. Attend some classes, practice some magic, explore a little... Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Evans._

*FPS*

The hat tells him of a room on the seventh floor, opposite a tapestry, that'll become a bedroom if he asks for it. The hat gives him directions but he still manages to get lost, probably because of the moving staircases.

He's wandering around a corridor when the students appear. Clearly the feast is over and everyone is returning to their houses. He tags onto the group in Gryffindor robes and Harry notices Fred, George, and Ron amongst the group.

The Gryffindors go to a life-size portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. The prefect that had been scolding the twins on the train—also ginger, also probably related to them and Ron—says, "_Caput Draconis_" and the portrait swings open to show a hole in the wall.

As the students scramble through the hole, Harry looks past them, seeing a cosy room with squishy arm chairs and red drapes on the wall.

He turns away. The Gryffindor common room looks nice, friendly, welcoming. But he doesn't belong there. It's not his home and it never well be.

*FPS*

He sleeps in a classroom. It's hard and cold but magic deals with that. He's slept in worse places.

He's woken by the sound of footsteps. He's hungry and needs to pee. The first can wait—he's gone days without food; less than twenty-four hours is nothing—but he needs to find a bathroom. It takes a while. He finds one a couple of floors down from the room he slept in. He pees, splashes some water on his face, and heads out again. There are more people around now. He tags after a group of Ravenclaw girls who lead him to the Great Hall.

His mouth waters at the sight of all the food laid out. He's never seen so much in one place. He reaches between students to snatch pieces of toast and munch on them. If anyone notices food vanishing into thin air, they don't say anything.

Four teachers are making their way down the tables, handing out timetables to all the students. Harry peers over the shoulder of a Ravenclaw first year called Lisa Turpin. She has potions for her first class and he tags along after her and her friend Padma Patil when they get up and head off.

*FPS*

Professor Snape, the Potions Master, is scary. He's got dark, piercing eyes that make Harry thankful he's invisible. Snape is one of those teachers that can silence a room with just a glance and he has no qualms about using this ability.

The Ravenclaws share their lesson with the Hufflepuffs and they make a simple cure for boils. Harry sits on a spare stool beside a Ravenclaw boy called Michael Corner and watches. He wishes he could join in.

*FPS*

Michael ruins his potion. He puts the wartcap powder in late and the potion turns into a thick green sludge. Snape bares down on Michael with his eyes glinting.

"Mr Corner, you appear to have been sorted into the wrong house. I expect this level of stupidity from Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, but Ravenclaws are supposed to be intelligent."

Harry stares at Snape. He only has a few years experience in schools but he's pretty sure teachers shouldn't say things like that to students. No one says anything though.

"_Scourgify_," Snape murmurs, waving his wand over the green sludge. It disappears. "I suggest you learn to read. Perhaps then you'll be able to follow instructions properly."

*FPS*

They have a twenty minute break after potions. The Hufflepuffs vanish off by themselves. The Ravenclaws head for the third floor—they have Transfiguration next and collect outside the classroom to discuss the Potions lesson. They all agree that Professor Snape was too harsh, but Michael accepts that he messed up. Harry thinks they should be more bothered by Snape's behaviour, but maybe he's wrong. He hasn't been in a school since he was seven; it's not like he knows what teachers are supposed to be like.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't go to lunch with the Ravenclaws after Transfiguration. He's had his fill of company for the day and he has a few apples in his backpack which he'd tucked away at breakfast. He munches on one and thinks about how he'd like to have a wand so he could try out the spell they'd learnt in Transfiguration. It doesn't matter than he can conjure a matchstick, turn it into a needle and back again then vanish it, all with just a thought. He wants to try out doing real magic like everyone else.

*FPS*

The next few days pass in much the same way as the first day. He sleeps in empty classrooms, attends classes with Ravenclaw first years, and studies in the library when he gets sick of watching people do magic. The Hogwarts library has a greater selection of books than even Flourish and Blotts had, and he delights in reading as much as he can, especially about history. He'd always considered himself pretty informed on the subject, but now he's discovered an entire secret world with a completely different history that he has to learn about and it's even more interesting than Muggle history. He had been disappointed by the History of Magic classes though; he'd really looked forward to them—after all what could be better than being taught history by a _ghost_?—but it'd proven to be the dullest class in the whole school.

*FPS*

He eventually finds the Room of Requirement—entirely by accident. He's exploring the castle one evening when he comes across the tapestry that the Sorting Hat had described. He follows the instructions it gave him and a door appears in the wall. When he opens it, he finds the most lavish bedroom he's ever laid eyes on.

There's a huge four-poster bed—big enough for three fully grown adults—with rich purple curtains and matching bed sheets. The walls are bare brick and windowless, but a twelve-candle chandelier hangs from the ceiling and the bedside tables each hold a small lamp.

There's also a small desk in the room, complete with a lamp and two draws, and a bookshelf that holds a handful of varying-sized tomes, with space for more. A second door is set in the opposite wall. He looks through and finds a modest sized bathroom with a tub, shower, toilet, and sink.

He puts his backpack on the desk and climbs on the bed, grinning. The room is brilliant. The bed is bouncy, the duvet soft and snug, and he finds himself yawning despite himself. It's still early, but having a bedroom suddenly makes sleeping a lot more appealing.

He decides to wash up first. He strips, gets in the shower, and stands under the water for almost an hour. It's the first real shower he's had in years and only when he's stood under the water does he realise how much more refreshing a proper shower is compared to keeping himself clean with Wish Magic. The room provides him with a huge fluffy white towel afterwards and he wraps himself in it, revelling in the soft material against his skin. He dries his body with it, Wishes his hair dry in an instant, then climbs on the bed. He gets under the duvet, settling down with a contented sigh. The bed is so soft that he'd quite happily lay in it forever.

That night, he sleeps better than he can ever remember sleeping.

*FPS*

He's delighted to wake up and find a clean set of clothes folded at the end of the bed. There's some trousers, a shirt, a black tie, a set of robes—even some clean underwear and socks. The robes have the Hogwarts crest where a house crest normally sits. It makes Harry a little sad that he doesn't have single house, but it's nice just to be able to dress like the other students.

*FPS*

Harry's first time on a broom is at the dead of night, during the full moon at the middle of September. The first years have already had a couple of lessons. Harry breaks into the broom shed and pulls out the least worn looking broomstick, grinning from ear to ear. He takes it to the Quidditch pitch and eagerly throws a leg over the broom. He takes a deep breath, grips it hard, and kicks off.

It's not like flying on his own, which requires control and concentration. On the broom he whizzes about with careless abandon, relying entirely on the thin stick of wood to keep him airborne. The wind rushes past his ears, his hair whips about behind him, and he feels a fierce rush of joy. Flying is, without a doubt, the most thrilling, freeing thing he's ever done.

He stays in the air until it starts to rain. He's freezing from his ears to his toes—his fingers have gone stiff around the broom handle—but he doesn't care. It's the most fun he can ever remembering having.

*FPS*

With a room to sleep in, regular food, and clean clothes, the first half of the term passes quickly. Harry finds a good routine of classes—for the most part he attends the Ravenclaw first year lessons, but he skips some of them to go to some third year Ancient Runes and Arithmancy classes. They don't involve much magic, so they provide him with a genuine challenge. They're hard and he loves it.

He doesn't eat with the other students. The Room of Requirement provides him with breakfast and dinner. He spends the lunch hour sitting alone in the library, revelling in the peace and quiet. He's still getting used to spending so much time around other people—especially children. He doesn't enjoy being around people much when he can't interact with them; it depresses him, seeing everything he could potentially be a part of but never actually being able to join them.

*FPS*

Hermione Granger is a smart girl. Harry often sees her in the library, studying hefty books he's pretty sure aren't normal first year reading materials. She looks lonely and sometimes he actually contemplates making himself visible, just for short periods, and getting into a conversation with her about the books she reads. (He reads them afterwards, and they're definitely not first year material but they're interesting and useful.) But she'd probably want to know what house he was in and his name and his year and he wouldn't be able to explain that he'd snuck into the school, because for all Hermione's intelligence she was a stickler for the rules and if she found out then she'd tell a teacher.

On the other hand, he doesn't think much of Ron Weasley, who's loud, boisterous, and gets into a fights with Draco Malfoy a lot. Harry doesn't think much of him either. Malfoy's just as rude as Ron, insulting anyone who isn't a Slytherin and acting like he's superior to everyone else, but at least he's open about his dislike. Ron mocks Hermione's thirst for knowledge and Neville Longbottom's clumsiness and nerves, but pretends like he isn't a bully for doing so.

*FPS*

He doesn't mean to break into the out-of-bounds third floor corridor. He's exploring one evening and comes across a locked door; curious, he touches a hand to it, Wishes it unlocked, and hears a click. He pushes it open then realises where he must be when he lays eyes on the massive, three-headed dog standing in the middle of the corridor. He quickly leaves—the dog growls at the open door and starts advancing, perhaps sensing there's someone there even if it can't see him—Wishes the door locked again, and wonders why on earth there's an animal like that locked up in a school.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Hallowe'en is a festive time in the castle. There's no trick-or-treating at Hogwarts, but there is a massive feast at the end of the day that's accompanied by ghostly entertainment. The Gryffindor house ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, re-enacts his own botched beheading whilst the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin house ghost, rattles his chains and pops up behind unsuspecting students to wail in their ears.

During dinner he overhears Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown mention that Hermione is in the girls' bathroom, crying because Ron had insulted her earlier. Harry leaves the Great Hall before the meal's over (it's not that great hanging around during meals because he has to be careful when he reaches for food and can't sit down to eat in case someone tries to sit where he is) and he thinks of going to the bathroom with a vague notion of comforting Hermione. She doesn't have any friends and he sympathises with that, but he's still not sure about revealing himself to her.

*FPS*

He passes a panicked looking Professor Quirrell on his way out and he doesn't think much of it until he hears the uproar from the Great Hall. When the students start filing out and he hears of the troll, his first thought is _brilliant! I wonder if I can see it?_ and his second is _Oh, crap, Hermione!_ He wants to go after the troll, not so much because he wants to go up against it, just that he wants to see it; for all his magic and living at Hogwarts, there are still some things that feel as if they should live only in books, and trolls are one of those things, but he can't let Hermione go about unaware that there's a troll in the castle.

*FPS*

He pushes open the door to the girls bathroom and slips inside. He can someone sniffling in one of the cubicles but that seems to be the only one occupied. He doesn't make himself visible, but he calls out.

"Hermione?"

The sniffling stop abruptly.

"Hermione, is that you?"

"Who's there?"

"It's... there's a troll in the school. Everyone's supposed to be going back to their houses."

He hears fumbling, the cubicle lock slides back, and the door opens forcefully. Hermione steps out, angry tears in her eyes and a glare on her face.

"Oh, yes, that's very—" she breaks off, eyes flicking around the seemingly empty room with surprise. Before Harry can decide whether or not to make himself visible, a foul smell and the noise of heavy, lumbering footsteps reach them.

*FPS*

The troll is twelve feet tall, grey-skinned, and dragging a large club by its side. Hermione shrieks, which unfortunately draws its attention to her and it lets out a roar and advances on her. She presses herself flat against the far wall, mouth hanging open in terror as she stares at it.

"HEY! You! Over here!"

The troll pauses and turns, its mean little eyes blinking stupidly at Harry, who's suddenly second guessing himself.

"Hermione, run!" he yells, backing up as the troll advances on him instead, but Hermione's frozen to the wall. Harry's own back hits a wall and he swallows, staring at the monstrous beast in front of him and wishing that trolls really did only exist in stories.

The troll lifts its club and Harry throws up a hand. "_Stop!_" he yells, and the troll freezes, it's club still held up in the air, looking like it's nothing more than a statue. When a few seconds pass and it doesn't move, he sidles along the wall until he's out of it's view, but keeps his eyes fixed on it as he shimmies over to where Hermione stands, grabbing her hand and tugging her away from the wall.

*FPS*

Only when they're out of the bathroom and Harry's slammed the door behind them does Hermione seem to come to herself.

"How did you do that?" she asks.

He doesn't answer. He can hear several people rushing down the next corridor and he only has time to urgently plead, "Don't tell them about me," and make himself invisible before McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell come rushing around the corner.

*FPS*

"Miss Granger, what on earth are you doing here? Students are meant to be in their dormitories!"

"I..." she glances around, clearly searching for Harry, but he's completely hidden. "I was in the bathroom and there was a—there's a troll in there, Professor!"

Quirrell whimpers. Snape goes for the door, his wand in hand as he pushes it open, and McGonagall grabs Hermione's shoulder and pulls her away. Snape steps into the bathroom, looking up at the troll, which is still frozen in place.

"There was a boy," Hermione blurts, and Harry scowls angrily. "I don't know who—he came in and said there was a troll and I thought he was just trying to trick me, but then it turned up and when it came after me he shouted at it and it went after him and he just told it to 'stop' and it froze like that, and then he pulled me out of the bathroom and he heard you coming and he just vanished!"

*FPS*

The teachers don't seem to know whether to believe her or not. After checking she's not hurt, McGonagall sends her back to Gryffindor with a warning that they'll want to hear more later, and Harry slinks off as well, leaving the teachers to look after the troll.

*FPS*

The following morning, Dumbledore sits in his office, staring at the silver spinning top that lies motionless on his desk. The portraits tell him that it moved the night before, right around dinner time, and Dumbledore's heard from McGonagall about the dark-haired boy that'd supposedly saved Hermione Granger from the troll. The top's spun only sporadically in the years since Harry Potter went missing from his aunt and uncle's house, occasionally whirling to life only to drop still once more within mere hours.

*FPS*

Hermione jumps when a small, black-haired figure appears in the chair next to her when she's sat in the library. She's alone, as always, and hidden away in the corner.

"You told them about me," Harry says accusingly.

"Well, what else was I meant to say?" she replies a little harshly. "Who are you anyway? Where did you come from?" Then she gasps, her eyes on his forehead. "You're Harry Potter!"

He straightens in his seat and shushes her, glancing around in case anyone heard even though the only other people there are Madam Pince, at the front desk, and a few sixth years over in the Charms section.

"That's not my name. How did you know anyway?"

"Your scar..."

He scowls and Wishes it invisible. Hermione blinks then leans forward, peering at his forehead and frowning. "But I thought..."

"Stop staring," he snaps at her.

She blinks, realises what she's doing, and leans back, blushing a little. "Sorry. But you are, aren't you?"

"Technically. But I don't use that name anymore and you can't tell anyone."

"But you've been missing for years, haven't you? I've read about you in—"

"Yeah, so have I," he interrupts, scowling. "I'm still missing and I want to stay that way. If the teachers find out I'm here, they'll throw me out."

"Why would they do that?"

"I'm not a student. I never got a letter. I snuck into the school so you can't tell them I'm here. I just thought I should probably let you know that I'm real, in case you started thinking you just imagined me yesterday because of shock or whatever."

*FPS*

"How did you stop the troll?" she asks curiously, then she adds, "Thank you, by the way, for saving me."

"It's fine," he says awkwardly. "It's called Wish Magic."

"I've never heard of that."

"I don't know if anyone else can do it. I named it myself. Do you promise not to tell anyone about me?"

Hermione bites at her lip, fighting against her natural urge to report rule breakers, but he had saved her yesterday and if he hadn't she might well have been killed before the teachers arrived, so she nods. "Alright."

*FPS*

"What name do you use? Why don't you use Harry Potter?"

"Harry Evans. That was my mum's maiden name. I just don't want to be Harry Potter."

Hermione desperately wants to ask more questions about why, but she holds them back and instead asks, "What's Wish Magic?"

"It's how I do magic. I Wish things, and they happen."

"So you just wished for the troll to stop?"

"Pretty much. Watch." He glances around, double checking that Madam Pince wasn't approaching, touches his finger to the table. A flower grows out of the centre and Hermione gasps, watching the stalk sprout up, two leaves growing off it, and a white rose head blossoms on top.

"Oh, wow," Hermione breathes. She reaches towards it, running her finger along the petals. "Oh my god, it's completely real. But how... I mean, you just wished for it?"

"Like I said, Wish Magic."

*FPS*

Footsteps approach their corner and Harry turns invisible and Wishes the flower away just as Madam Pince rounds into their area, a pile of books floating alongside her. She nods politely to Hermione, flicks her wand to direct the books onto their shelves, and then walks away again.

"I should go," Harry's disembodied voice says when she's gone. Hermione starts as he pushes the chair back.

"Are you invisible?"

"Yeah. It's how I hide."

"Where are you going? Do you have to leave?"

"It's not really a good idea for me to stay here. Someone might see or hear me."

Hermione grabs her bag from the floor. "We can go somewhere else," she suggests, then adds a little nervously, "I mean, if you don't mind. It's nice to talk to someone, that's all. But if you don't want to, that's okay."

"No," he says quickly. "I mean, I don't mind. We can go somewhere else."

*FPS*

He thinks there's a chance this is a bad idea, but he's not sure how so for now he doesn't care, because he finally has someone he can talk to.

*FPS*

"Where shall we go?"

He thinks of the Room of Requirement, but he doesn't trust her enough to give up that secret, so he suggests they find an empty classroom. When they get there, she awkwardly asks what he wants to talk about and he just as awkwardly mentions the last book he'd seen her reading, and that's enough to throw them into an hour long debate about various transfiguration theories.

*FPS*

"If you're not a student, where do you sleep at night? Do you sneak into the dorms?"

"I sleep in a classroom," he lies. "I can make the floor soft and conjure a blanket and pillow so it's fine."

"Tell me more about your magic. How exactly does it work—do you need to Wish outlou- oh wait, no, you made that rose without saying anything. But do you need to Wish certain words to make it work?"

"Not really. I just need to want it—really want it. Just idly wishing, like daydreaming, doesn't work. It's kind of hard to explain, I guess, and I never really thought about the mechanics of it because I just do it. It's like walking—your brain is sending signals to legs to move in a certain way, but you're not really thinking about it, you just do it, you see?"

Hermione nods understandingly. "Do you have any limits? Are there things you can't do?"

"So far the only thing I've not managed to do is heal myself if I get sick. I can heal a cut or bruise or whatever, but I can't cure a cold or my eye or anything like that."

*FPS*

He's had a more than a few miserable weeks living on the streets with a raging cold, desperately Wishing for his nose to be clear and his throat no longer hurting, but nothing worked which only left him feeling more miserable and downtrodden.

*FPS*

"That's probably a limit on healing. I've not read into that yet, but it's possible self-healing simply isn't possible even with normal magic. I've heard there's a potion for curing colds but nothing about spells. I'll go to the library and research it."

"I can do that. I've got more time than you, y'know, with homework and everything."

"Oh, I suppose," she admits a little glumly. "You'll share what you find though, won't you?"

He nods, smiling. "Promise."

*FPS*

"Can I ask... your eye, is that—I mean... was that from when You Know Who...?"

He looks down at his feet, poking at his trainers. "No, but I don't really want to talk about it."

"Okay," she says quickly. "Sorry."

He waves the apology off. "It's fine. I figured you probably would ask."

*FPS*

As Dumbledore watches the spinning top fall still for the second time that day after over two hours of activity, he wonder not for the first time if maybe it's simply broken. He'd designed it himself to monitor Harry's very life and the only time it should ever fall still was if Harry died. When it stopped working the day he disappeared from Little Whinging, Dumbledore had refused to believe that Harry was dead. It was ridiculous really, given that he had created one for himself as well and done everything he could think of (short of tampering with the device itself) to trick it into thinking he was dead and it'd continued to spin.

So Harry's should be working as well, but he preferred to tell himself that it was broken than imagine that Harry was dead. But with each time it starts up only to stop again he has to wonder, because he doesn't know what could possibly cause it to behave so erratically. Not that that means he accepts Harry as dead. He won't accept that until he sees a body for himself. He's not sure if the willingness to doubt his power rather than believe Harry dead is a sign of old age, or a sign of how he's as star-struck as everyone else by putting so much hope for the true destruction of Voldemort on a boy and a prophecy.

*FPS*

A week later, Gryffindor and Slytherin have the first Quidditch match of the season. Harry watches from the ground, equal parts delighted and envious. He wants to be up there with them, flying in a team, working together to win a match.

Slytherin win despite Gryffindor's excellent teamwork and great flying. They work together well and Harry thinks they're a great team, but Nick Coleman, their seeker, just doesn't match up to Slytherin's Terrence Higgs and it loses them the game.

*FPS*

Harry flies that night. It's not as fun as it usually is.

*FPS*

He researches healing magic and discovers that self-healing is only possible for minor injuries like he's done. When it comes to colds and illnesses, it takes someone else to do it and often times potions as well or instead, which has a certain amount of logic even if it is annoying.

*FPS*

He starts having regular study sessions with Hermione. It's fun and he enjoys having a friend for the first time in his life. Hermione's equally pleased to have a friend, even if it's not one she can sit with in classes or spend much time with; it's still a step up from the complete loneliness from the start of term.

*FPS*

The first time he tries to use the Room of Requirement but finds it blocked, he panics. He's started leaving Kiwi and his figurines in there so he's not carrying them around all the time, but he can't stand the thought of losing them, especially Kiwi. He spends half an hour pacing in front of the section of wall, pressing his hands to it, Wishing the room into being, but nothing works until a door appears suddenly. Before he can grab the handle, it opens and a couple of ruffled looking seventh years step out, a girl and a boy. They walk away, satisfied expressions on their faces, and Harry asks the Room to become his usual bedroom. When he gets inside, everything is as it should be, his figurines and Kiwi safe and untouched. Even so, he clutches the bear tightly to his chest and for a few days takes her with him when he goes out.

*FPS*

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry blinks, looks at Hermione. "What?"

"Are you okay? You just... you sort of blacked out for a minute, I think."

"I'm fine."

*FPS*

He hadn't thought about his seizures when he befriended Hermione. He just hadn't considered that it would be an issue, but now he's wondering just what'll happen if he has a bad one while he's with her. She might be willing to keep his secret for now, but if he had a tonic clonic seizure she might freak out and fetch a teacher for help. It'd be understandable, but not good for Harry.

*FPS*

He'd discovered a potion for epilepsy when he was researching healing, but it was far too complex for him to brew. He's specifically checked to see if there was a magical solution to his problem, but like Muggle medicines magic only provided a regularly taken potion that could help prevent seizures but not fix the problem completely.

*FPS*

Hermione and Neville aren't really friends. Hermione helps Neville in classes sometimes and they greet each other with smiles in the morning, but they're not what anyone would call proper friends. It's Neville who finally decides to change that, sick of being left out by the rest of the first year boys. Ron and Seamus make fun of him sometimes and although Dean doesn't, he doesn't stand up for Neville either. He knows that befriending Hermione will probably mean a lot of hours spent in the library studying rather than doing other friend activities, but he figures it's worth it and it certainly wouldn't hurt him to study more given how he's the worst in almost all their classes.

*FPS*

Hermione's surprised when Neville stops her as she's leaving for a study session with Harry and asks if he can join her. She feels bad about turning him down but she knows Harry won't show himself if she turns up with someone else, but she promises him they can study another time and she means it.

*FPS*

"Harry, have you ever been in the third floor corridor?"

"The forbidden one? Once. Why?"

"At the start of the year I got lost and ended up there—completely by accident, I wasn't trying to break the rules—and well, I just wondered what you thought about the trap door."

Harry looks at Hermione, frowning. "What trap door?"

"Didn't you notice it? Under that great dog, there was a trap door."

"I was a bit preoccupied with the dog, got out pretty quick. But a trap door's not that surprising in this place. I mean, compared to staircases that _move_..."

She laughs. "I know. But it's just, did you hear about the break-in to Gringotts during the summer?"

"No. I thought no one could break in there."

"No one should, but it happened _and_ they got away. The papers said that the vault they tried to steal from had been emptied the very same day. I think it's possible that whatever's in there might be what's hidden under that trap door."

Harry frowns, thinking about it. "Bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, there's no connection between the trap door and the Gringotts break-in."

"That we know of. Also, I know that Professor Snape tried to get past that dog not long after Hallowe'en."

"That still doesn't create a connection between Gringotts and the trap door. If Snape tried to get past it, then clearly there's _something_ down there, but if you ask me it seems unlikely that it's the same as whatever might have been at Gringotts."

*FPS*

Neville and Hermione's friendship is tentative at first, and, as Neville expects, mostly focused around studying, but as the weeks go on and they get to know each other a little better they spend a less time studying and more time just hanging out, and by the time Christmas rolls around, Neville's able to go home and tell his grandmother with complete honesty that he's made a friend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Harry gets bored in the Christmas holidays. He'd grown used to spending time with Hermione and with her gone and lessons stopped for a few weeks, he has nothing much to do with himself, so he explores a lot, venturing to places in the castle he hasn't been before.

*FPS*

It's Christmas Eve when he finds the mirror. It sits in an empty classroom, like someone had put it there to keep it out of the way, and he looks closer just because he can't imagine why someone would try and hide a mirror. It's impressive, he supposes, as far as mirrors go, standing on two clawed feet and sporting an ornate gold frame, with the words_ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ inscribed along the top. He goes to it, standing in front of it and making himself turn visible (just because it's fun to watch sometimes) and then his heart almost jumps out of his chest because the figure in the mirror isn't him.

Except after looking for a moment, he realises it is. Not him as he is now, but him older—maybe twenty or so. He's got a wand in his hand, a healthy glow to his face, and a broad grin. He looks happy and Harry turns away, cloaking himself in invisibility as he runs from the room.

*FPS*

He doesn't think about his demon deal much. At first it didn't mean much to him, but as the years went by and the time until his ten years were up got shorter, thinking about the demon deal only became painful. He doesn't regret it—he still believes the power he gained is more than worth his soul—but every time he thinks of it he remembers that he's never going to grow up properly. He'll die before he even turns eighteen, and that saddens him. He can't stand looking in the mirror at an image of what he could be, knowing he never will.

*FPS*

He remembers the discussion with Hermione about the three headed-dog on the third floor and decides to go and have another look, this time paying attention to the floor underneath the dog. He entertains the thought of getting past the dog and sneaking down to find out what's hidden there, but he doesn't quite fancy his chances against the slathering animal just yet for what might be nothing.

*FPS*

He doesn't realise he's having a seizure until he hits the ground and his leg breaks with a crack that echoes through the night. The broom is still hovering some twenty feet above him. When he cries, he tells himself that it's because of the pain in his leg and not because he's realised he'll never be able to play Quidditch or fly properly.

*FPS*

He discovers that fixing broken bones is within his range of healing skills and he's glad for that. He's not sure what he'd do if he couldn't. He's still left with an ache that doesn't go away until he's hobbled up to the Room of Requirement, had a long hot bath, and slept for eight hours.

*FPS*

In February, there's a Hogsmeade weekend for the older kids. Harry sneaks out with them. He spends the morning wandering the village, looking in all the shops, stealing a box of Every Flavour Beans from Honeydukes and an unattended butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks, and visits the Shrieking Shack, which doesn't look haunted or scary in the bright winter sunlight.

In the afternoon he walks out past the edge of the village and teaches himself to Apparate. He's read everything about it that he could find in the library—not because he doubts he can do it, but just because disappearing and reappearing somewhere else is the kind of thing that one should be careful about. He doesn't want to get splinched. Aside from not being sure if he could put himself together again, he's not entirely sure any unattached body pieces would remain invisible... and if they did, they might become invisible to _him_, which would make finding them quite difficult.

*FPS*

The first time he just Apparates from one side of the path to the other, keeping it short just in case something does go wrong. He does it without splinching and cheerfully does it again as celebration. Next he Apparates to the village and back again, then to the edge of Hogwarts. He keeps going, Apparating further and further until he's in Diagon Alley, and then he Apparates all the way back to Hogwarts.

*FPS*

He tries Apparating directly into Hogwarts itself, despite knowing there are Anti-Apparition Spells up to prevent it, and it's like throwing himself against a brick wall.

*FPS*

He wakes up on the side of the path between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, blood in his mouth and a familiar sensation of weakness along his right side. He moves himself further into the trees lining the path and sits leaning against one, hugging himself as he waits for the weakness to fade and wondering if the seizure had been brought on by the Apparating. He supposes that the physical stress of such an activity might precipitate one, or possibly it had just been the effect of trying to get through anti-Apparition wards, or it had only been because he did it so much, bouncing back and forth too often within a short space of time. He hopes (unless it'd simply been random) that it was because of trying to break into the castle or doing it too much; if it's caused by the simple act of Apparating, he's going to be really annoyed. Being able to Apparate is an excellent skill that he doesn't want to have to give up.

*FPS*

"Harry, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Where did you live before you came to Hogwarts?"

He hesitates to answer, wondering whether he should lie, but he decides there's probably not much point.

"London, on the streets. Before that I was with my aunt and uncle."

"Why did you stop living with your aunt and uncle?"

Harry stares at the Herbology textbook in front of him, unsure again if he should lie or not.

"Did they die?" she asks gently and he shakes his head then bites his lip, thinking maybe he should have nodded instead. "Did you run away?"

Harry closes the book and gets to his feet. "I have to go."

"Wait, Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't—I won't ask again."

"Don't—it's fine. I'll see you next week. I have to go."

He vanishes himself and hurries out. He knows he's being irrational, that Hermione's perfectly justified in her curiosity—they're friends, they're supposed to tell each other about their lives—but bringing it up so suddenly just makes him too edgy.

*FPS*

He turns up late to their next meeting, a first for him, and hesitates to go inside. He stands outside the door of their chosen classroom—they change it each week, not wanting anyone to notice Hermione repeatedly using the same classroom and deciding to investigate—for several minutes before deciding to go in. Hermione's standing by the window, looking out across the grounds at the Hufflepuff Quidditch team practice, and doesn't notice him come in. She jumps when he speaks.

"My uncle used to hit me."

Hermione turns but Harry's staring at the stone floor like it holds the answers to the universe.

"Ever since I can remember, he'd hit me if I did anything wrong, or even if he just thought I did something wrong, or... anyway, when I was seven he got really drunk and... and I ended up in hospital. That's why my eye doesn't work. Afterwards I ran away and started using my Wish Magic to hide myself."

*FPS*

He's not sure what to expect, but it's not to have Hermione throw herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in a fierce hug that makes him flinch.

"That's awful," she says in a choked voice, and he realises she's crying. He pats her awkwardly on the back.

"It's fine, really. It was years ago. Please don't cry," he begs, half because he doesn't know how comfort her and half because it's making his own throat tighten uncomfortably. Unfortunately his words only seem make her cry harder. He swallows thickly and blinks several times, forcing himself to not cry and focusing on her. "Really, Hermione, I'm... I'm okay. You don't have to cry."

*FPS*

She eventually draws back, wiping at her eyes. He conjures a tissue and stands awkwardly as she blows her nose, not sure if he's supposed to acknowledge that she's crying or pretend like everything's fine.

"But what about your aunt?" she asks. "Didn't she do anything to stop him?"

"Not really."

"That's horrible. I can't believe anyone would do that."

He shrugs. He knows it's horrible, in the sense that he hated it happening and he knows it's a bad thing, but he doesn't really see it as horrible in the same way she does. For him, it was just the way things were and to have someone crying over him because of it makes him feel uncomfortable.

*FPS*

In March Harry's walking out the library behind Hermione and Neville, neither of them aware he's there; he's not telling Neville about himself, but he still likes to hang around them sometimes, and they happen across Draco Malfoy and his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh good," Malfoy drawls with a sneer, twirling his wand between his fingers, "I was looking for someone I could use this new curse on that I just learnt." He points his wand at Neville. "_Locomotor Mortis!_"

Instantly Neville's legs spring together. His arms flail as he loses his balance and he knocks into Hermione, the both of them falling to the floor while the three Slytherins laugh. Hermione pushes Neville off her, ignoring his apologies as she digs out her wand to cast the counter-curse for him.

"I don't know how you ended up in Gryffindor, Longbottom," Malfoy sniggers. "You must have bribed the hat; I've seen rats braver than you."

*FPS*

"How'd you get into Slytherin, Malfoy?" Harry whispers from behind him, making the blond boy jump. "Because I've seen pigs more cunning than you."

Malfoy whirls, eyes scanning the corridor for the source of the voice. "Who's there?" he demands. "Show yourself!"

Only Hermione doesn't look confused by his words. She finally gets her wand out and casts the counter-curse on Neville and the two of them get to their feet while Malfoy's still looking for Harry. Harry flicks his wrist and Crabbe and Goyle suddenly trip over even though they're standing still, hitting the floor with heavy thuds. Malfoy whirls again, glaring at Hermione and Neville and raising his wand, but before he can do anything, Harry hits him with a Leg-Locker Curse just as he'd done to Neville, and the Slytherin topples over with his friends. Harry crouches down by his head.

"There's nothing cunning or ambitious about being a bully, Malfoy."

*FPS*

"Granger, Longbottom, detention!"

Harry jumps up, moving quickly out the way as Snape stalks down the corridor towards the group, drawing his wand to free Malfoy from the Leg-Locker curse. Harry watches guiltily as Snape takes points from Gryffindor when Hermione and Neville try and claim they hadn't attacked the three Slytherins, making biting remarks about how they're bullies and liars. When Hermione and Neville finally get sent on their way, Harry follows them.

*FPS*

"Go ahead, Neville, I just need a minute. I'll catch up."

When Neville's rounded the corner, Hermione turns, eyes scanning the corridor. Harry double checks there's no one there before materialising.

"You got me a detention!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Snape thinks I'm a bully! I can't believe you! I've never bullied anyone in my life!"

"I was standing up for you two! I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm sorry, I really am."

"Well don't bother next time," she snaps, turning on her heel and stalking away.

"Hermione," he tries, but she doesn't stop and he has to quickly hide himself as a Hufflepuff turns into the corridor.

*FPS*

She doesn't turn up at their next study session. Harry sits for hours in the classroom they use, hoping maybe she's just late, but eventually has to admit that she's not coming and he slouches off feeling miserable and guilty.

*FPS*

A week passes, then another, and Hermione shows no sign of forgiving Harry. She isn't in the library as often and when she is it's always with Neville, giving Harry no chance to talk to her. He's seriously thinking of maybe sneaking into Gryffindor common, or joining a Gryffindor class to at least pass a note to her, but one day he finds her in the library alone, sat at the table where he'd first spoken to her after Hallowe'en, a book open in front of her but her fingers tapping the table and a second chair pulled out next to her. At first he wonders if it's Neville's, but he hadn't seen the other boy anywhere in the library and only Hermione's book bag is on the floor.

*FPS*

When he sits down, she immediately puts down the book and turns to him, talking as soon as he makes himself visible.

"I still don't forgive you," she says quickly, cutting him off in mid apology, "but we finally had our detention last night and I had to talk to you. That dog on the third floor is called Fluffy and it's definitely guarding something and that something is to do with Professor Dumbledore and a man named Nicolas Flamel."

"How do you know?"

"We had detention with Hagrid and I accidentally let slip that I knew about the dog. I thought I was going to get another detention but he hardly even told me off, and he obviously knew what was down there—he was all edgy and nervous—so I tried asking about it and he let slip that name. He shut up after that, but this is something."

Harry nods in agreement. "I'll say—Nicolas Flamel's the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone."

*FPS*

He knows that because Flamel causes arguments among historians about whether he should be included on lists of famous historical figures, some saying he should because he was born in the fourteenth century while other say he shouldn't because he was still alive and shouldn't be classified as a historical figure until he was dead.

*FPS*

"Do you think that's what Fluffy's guarding?" Hermione asks.

"I... well, it's possible I guess. It's certainly the sort of thing that someone would want to steal, and something that would need protecting, but what would it be doing in a school?"

"Hagrid said that whatever was under the trapdoor was between Flamel _and_ Professor Dumbledore. If they're friends, Flamel might have asked Professor Dumbledore to look after the stone for him. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the country."

"Didn't you say that Snape tried to get past Fluffy back on Hallowe'en? Do you think he's trying to steal it?"

"He can't be. He's a teacher, he wouldn't do that."

"He's not exactly a nice teacher. He's horrible to everyone."

"He's just strict."

"McGonagall's strict. Snape's mean. He's made Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott cry in Potions more than once. What kind of teacher does that?"

*FPS*

"I think you have epilepsy."

Harry looks up. Hermione's only just walked in and she's got a thick book in her arms which she sets down on the table he's conjured for them to work at. They're studying even more lately; end of year exams are two months away but Hermione's already wants to start going over everything she's learnt in the past year.

"What?"

"I think you have epilepsy," she repeats, opening the book to a page marked with a little sticky note. "Those times when you sometimes zone out, I've been looking into it since it happened a few weeks ago and your face did this weird twitchy thing and so did your hands, and I think you might be having seizures—not tonic clonic ones, like most people probably think of seizures where your whole body shakes, but small ones. They're called focal seizures. Epilepsy can be caused by brain trauma and after what you told me about your uncle, I think that might be it."

*FPS*

He's impressed at her dedication to the research and touched by her concern, but he can tell by the look in her eye that she wants him to get help.

*FPS*

"I'm fine, Hermione. It's just focal seizures."

"It can be dangerous if it's left untreated."

"I'll be fine. You can't tell anyone, Hermione, please."

"You know they might not throw you out."

"Yeah, right. Why would they let me stay?"

"You've got magic. If you told them you're here, they might offer you a place. Or maybe you could go to another school. You could get help for your epilepsy, if that's what it is. Dumbledore would help you. You're the Boy Who Lived, they wouldn't just throw you back to the streets."

"I don't know. I don't really trust anyone. It's safer if I just stay hidden. It's easier."

"Are you scared they'd send you back to your uncle?"

"I'd just run away again."

"They wouldn't, not after you told them what he did."

Harry shrugs. "Maybe one day," he says, just to appease her. She opens her mouth to try and convince him again and he looks at her pleadingly. "Please, Hermione. I'll think about it, okay? But I can't do it right now. I'm not ready yet."

She sighs, looking at him sadly, but nods. "Alright. But just so you know, when do want to tell someone, I'll come with you. You don't have to do it alone."

He's honestly touched by that and gives her a warm, heartfelt smile.

*FPS*

"Hermione, I want to tell Neville about me."

Hermione looks up from her Charms notes in surprise. "You do?"

"You trust him, don't you?"

"Of course. I just didn't think you did."

"I think he should know. Bring him to our next session?"

"Are you going to tell him you're Harry Potter, or just that you're here?"

"Probably just that I'm here. I don't know, I'll see how it goes."

*FPS*

Neville's torn between nervous fear at such blatant rule-breaking and what it'd mean for him if anyone found out he knew and didn't report it, and a jittery feeling of joy at being trusted with this big secret and a determination not to disappoint Hermione and Harry by telling anyone. There's also a slight feeling of smug satisfaction whenever he looks at Ron, Seamus, and Dean, knowing he's been trusted with this big secret and they haven't.

*FPS*

Hagrid's house nearly burns down in mid-May and Harry's not sure whether to believe the claim that he'd been trying to raise a dragon.

*FPS*

Harry's cheerful as he heads back to the Room of Requirement after the second-to-last Quidditch match of the season, between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Slytherin had flattened Hufflepuff and they were clear winners for the Quidditch cup; the last match that'll be between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw will only determine who comes second, third, and fourth. Harry doesn't care about the cup, he's just happy from spending time in the sun, watching people fly, and relaxing for a while.

But he gets back to the Room and his cheerfulness evaporates in an instant because there's a man sat in the chair at his desk.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The man has fluffy blond hair, blue eyes, and a welcoming smile. He's maybe thirty, a little taller than average height, and wearing a dark green cloak with pale green runes etched into it.

"Hello, Harry."

*FPS*

Harry debates running—he's still invisible so the man can't know for sure that it's him—but his curiosity gets the better of him. Who is this man? How did he know Harry was living here? What does he want? Most importantly though: is he a threat to Harry?

*FPS*

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Assistant, and it's terribly rude to be invisible while you're having a conversation with someone."

Harry hesitates before making himself visible, but keeps ready to hide at any moment. "What sort of name is that?"

"Hey, don't diss the name. It's cool."

"It's weird."

"You have no appreciation for clever names."

Harry just raises his eyebrow sceptically. "What are you doing here?"

"How much do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"I'm not telling you. I don't even know who you are or why you're here or how you know I was here."

"I'm not here to hurt you, Harry. What do you know about the Stone?"

"Why should I tell you anything when you won't tell me?"

"Alright, how about this: a question for a question. I answer yours, you answer mine. Fair?"

"I go first."

The man nods, leans back in his seat, and gestures for Harry to start.

*FPS*

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I tracked you with magic. What do you know about the Stone?"

"That's a really vague question."

The Assistant smiles but concedes the point. "Do you know where it is?"

"Under the school, through the trap door. Why did you track me down? No one's ever done that."

"I needed to know what you know about the Stone. Do you know who's after it?"

"Maybe Snape, but I don't know for sure. Why are you asking me about it?"

"Voldemort wants it. You need to stop him before he gets it."

*FPS*

Harry stares at the Assistant, who smiles. "Yeah, something like that."

"But—what—I mean, Voldemort's _dead_."

"Temporarily incapacitated is my preferred phrase, and if he gets his hands on the Stone he'll be permanently fit, able-bodied, and ruthlessly brutal."

"Then you need to do something!"

The Assistant laughs dryly. "No, I don't meddle. Well, I do, but only in terms of telling people things they might otherwise have figured out themselves. Point being, I don't stop him. You do."

"But I'm just a kid, I can't stop Voldemort!"

"You already did once."

*FPS*

Harry scowls and looks away. "That doesn't count. I don't know how I did that. It was a fluke, it wasn't me."

The Assistant shrugs. "You've still done it, and now you're ten years older and wielding some serious firepower. You think you can't take him?"

"He's _Voldemort_. You Know Who. He Who Must Not Be Named. He terrorised the wizarding world for eleven years. I've read all about it. His reign was one of the darkest times in wizarding history."

"And if he gets the Stone, that's going to happen all over again." He leans forward, resting an elbow on his knee as his now very serious eyes settle on Harry. "Look, stop him, get someone else to stop him, or sit back and do nothing, but if Voldemort gets the Stone the world is going to turn very dark, very quickly. Trust me, I know that all too well."

*FPS*

"Who _are_ you?"

The Assistant straightens, smiling again. "Much too early to be telling you that. You've got two weeks to think about what you want to do. He'll go for the Stone on the night of the fourth of June."

"How do you know that?"

"I know a lot of things. Remember, two weeks. I'll see you again sometime." The Assistant gets to his feet, straightening his cloak and brushing a strand of blond hair from his forehead. "By the way, next time someone questions you, don't give up so much information so easily. Be stingy."

He touches two fingers to his head in a salute and heads out the door, turning invisible just as he opens it and walks out, leaving Harry to stare after him, baffled and shocked.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't mention the Assistant to Hermione and Neville until the fourth. He doesn't know whether to believe what he said but as he sits in the library that morning—he's not bothering with any classes right now; end of year exams are happening so he has nothing to gain from them—he realises that he has to at least consider the possibility that the Assistant was telling the truth and Voldemort will try and steal the Stone that night. Better to do something and find out the Assistant lied than do nothing and let the Stone be stolen.

*FPS*

He tells Hermione and Neville about it as they sit in the usual abandoned classroom, just relaxing now the two Gryffindors have finished their exams. They exchange sceptical looks and Neville expresses doubt about the Assistant, but they both agree that something has to be done. After some convincing from Harry, the two of them go to Professor McGonagall and tell her they think someone's planning to steal the Stone, only to get sent away with a stern look and the information that Dumbledore's left the school.

*FPS*

"What now?" Neville asks in a whisper just outside McGonagall's office. Harry's with them, invisible and pressed against the wall where no one will bump into him.

"We go down the trap door," Harry says, equally quiet. "We have to stop Voldemort."

"Us?" Hermione squeaks.

"There's no one else. Dumbledore's gone and McGonagall won't listen. If Voldemort gets the Stone, the whole world's damned. We have to do it."

*FPS*

Harry sneaks into Gryffindor tower with them that evening after dinner. The common room is crowded and he has to fly up and hover by the ceiling to stay out of the way. It's alright at first; he watches the Weasley twins get on Ron's nerves, eavesdrops on gossipers, and steals a chocolate frog when a seventh year brings down a huge box of sweets to share as celebrations for finishing her NEWTs. But eventually it gets boring and he floats around the ceiling, impatiently waiting for everyone else to go to bed.

*FPS*

When only Hermione and Neville are left, he lowers himself to the floor and makes them invisible too, but as they vanish from his sight he realises that making them invisible to each other might make things tricky.

"Hang on." He Wishes and they come back into view.

"But we need to be invisible," Neville says, "or we'll get caught."

"We should be invisible to everyone else," Harry says unsurely, "just not to each other."

"'Should'?" Hermione repeats, picking up on his hesitant tone.

"Well we've got no one to try it on and we shouldn't really waste time talking about it. My magic's never failed me before, it shouldn't do now."

*FPS*

They reach the third floor without trouble and come to a stop outside the locked door. Harry tells the other two to wait while he deals with Fluffy and creeps through the door. The dog growls and he's not sure if it's because he can see Harry or smell him or just because he'd seen the door open. Harry cautiously approaches, Wishing furiously for the dog to just curl up and go to sleep. It does exactly that and only when the animal's snoring loudly does Harry back up and pull the door open.

"C'mon," he whispers, beckoning the other two inside. "Lets get down there quick. I don't know how long he'll stay asleep."

*FPS*

When they open the trap door, they can see only darkness. There's no ladder, rope, or any other way for them to get down there.

"I guess we jump," Hermione says, and Neville looks faint.

"I can fly down first," Harry suggests. "We don't know how deep it is and I don't want either of you getting hurt."

"Can you fly us?" Hermione asks, and then gives a startled yelp as she lifts off the floor.

"Yes," Harry says with a small grin.

"Put me down!" she hisses, glancing nervously at Fluffy. "No, I don't like that. You go first, check it safe, then we jump."

"I think I'd prefer he made me fly," Neville says.

*FPS*

Harry flies down carefully until he sees the plant covered floor below. He zips back up, tells them about it, and Hermione decides to jump down first, then Harry and Neville follow.

"Don't land on the plant!" Hermione cries as they slowly come down, struggling away from the creeping vines that try to wrap around her ankles. "It's Devil's Snare. It'll kill you."

"'Kay," Harry replies, concentrating on not dropping Neville or losing control of himself. When they've landed by the damp wall, beyond the plant's reach, Neville grins.

"That wasn't so bad. Better than flying on a broom."

*FPS*

They move on down a passageway until they reach a chamber full of winged keys.

"We're doomed," Neville moans, catching sight of the brooms they're obviously supposed to use to catch the right key. "We can't fly well enough to catch a key. You'd have to be a Seeker or something."

Harry shoots him an amused look. "I can fly perfectly well with or without a broom, and on top of that, I don't even need a key."

He goes to the door, presses his palm to it, and it swings open.

"You know," Hermione says conversationally as they head through, "if we weren't currently breaking about fifty school rules and trying to save a powerful magical object from the darkest wizard in history, I might be annoyed at how easily you do everything."

*FPS*

"_Now_ we're doomed," Neville says when they're standing on the chessboard with the white pieces blocking their way to the other door. "How are you going to get us past this? I don't know about you, but I'm really bad at chess and if we have to play to get across..."

"We just need to get past the white pieces, so... we fly."

"What, over the top?"

Harry nods.

"What if they attack us when we come down on the other side?" Hermione asks.

"We go fast, and we should still be invisible to other people," Harry adds. "I haven't dropped that so hopefully..."

He trails off. The others don't look reassured.

*FPS*

He doesn't let their feet touch the ground until he's opened the door on the other side and they rush through quickly, shutting the door behind them and quickly moving down a short passage to another door. Beyond that one is a troll—larger and smellier than the one at Hallowe'en, but thankfully already knocked out.

"He's already here," Hermione's muffled voice says as they edge past it with their robes pulled up over their mouths and noses. "You Know Who's already come through."

*FPS*

Harry and Neville say nothing until they've stepped into the last room—and fires spring up in front of both the door behind them and the one ahead. Hermione and Neville look pale and nervous. Until now, the idea of Voldemort getting the stone was just a theory, a possibility, but now they know for sure.

"I was going to say we should go back," Neville says in a shaky voice, "but I guess we can't."

Harry approaches the table set up in the middle of the room with seven potion-filled bottles and piece of parchment on top. He picks up the parchment, reading the riddle and glancing at the bottles, then at the fire. He's not sure he can sneak past this one.

*FPS*

"I've figured it out," Hermione says when she's read the riddle and spent a while thinking, her voice steady despite her pale face. "That one takes us forward, that one back."

The one that takes them forward only has enough for one mouthful, but the other has more than enough for two. Harry takes a deep breath, inhaling shakily and letting out slowly.

"I'm going on. You two go back, grab the brooms in the room with the keys, fly out and get McGonagall or... or just anyone."

"She didn't believe us before," Hermione points out.

"Take the riddle as proof you've been down here and... tell them who I am. I'm pretty sure they won't leave me down here, student or not. People have been looking for me for years after all."

Neville frowns. "What do you mean?"

Harry smiles and Wishes his scar visible. "I'm Harry Potter."

*FPS*

Beyond the fire is a large chamber and sure enough there's already someone in there, stood before the mirror that Harry had found at Christmas. But it's not Voldemort—it's Quirrell.

Quirrell turns, frowning. Harry Wishes himself completely and utterly invisible and silently moves aside. Quirrell's eyes stay on the door, narrowing slightly, clearly looking for whoever had opened it. Harry creeps forward, rubbing at his scar, which aches. It's been doing it for weeks, but it's worse now, a steady stab of pain that he's struggling to ignore. He doesn't do anything to attack Quirrell yet, because he's too baffled. It was supposed to be Voldemort trying to steal the stone, not the nervous, stuttering Defence professor with the weird smelling turban. Even Snape would have made more sense than Quirrell—Harry can at least imagine him as a servant of Voldemort, but Quirrell? It just doesn't fit.

*FPS*

Quirrell eventually turns back to the mirror, walking around it to look at the back and then coming around to the front again.

"I see the stone," he murmurs to himself without stutter or hesitation. "I see myself presenting it to my master, but how do I get it..."

Harry peers past Quirrell but all he sees is the man's reflection—normal, not older like Harry had seen himself at Christmas, just plain old Quirrell, brow furrowed.

"Perhaps... is the Stone inside the mirror? Do I break it? Or..."

He curses. Harry edges up to the mirror and touches the frame, Wishing the glass to become unbreakable. If the Stone is inside it, hopefully that'll be enough to keep it safe at least for a while. Then he looks at Quirrell. He might not be much, but he's clearly not what he seems, and Harry raises a hand.

*FPS*

Quirrell cries out in shock when ropes appear from thin air and bind themselves around his body and legs, knocking him off balance to topple to the floor. Harry drops his invisibility, watching as Quirrell notices him, his face twisting angrily.

"You!" he snarls, eyes noticing the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Me," Harry confirms, then leaps back when Quirrell clicks his fingers and the ropes disappear.

"You're supposed to be missing," he says, getting to his feet.

"Depending on who you ask, I am. There's help on the way. You're not getting the Stone."

"Help will come too late to save you."

"Let me speak to him," says a third voice, high and cold, making Harry jump. Quirrell hesitates.

"Master, you are not strong enough."

"I have strength enough for this."

*FPS*

Harry can only stare in horror at the face sticking out the back of Quirrell's head.

*FPS*

"Harry Potter... you see what I've become... you see what I must do to survive... live off another, a mere _parasite_," Voldemort spits.

"You're still not getting the Stone," Harry says with more confidence than he feels.

"_You_ will."

"I'm not helping you. You killed my parents!"

"Get me the stone and I will bring them back. I have great power, Harry. Restored, I can return your parents to you. Surely that is worth retrieving the Stone."

"You're a liar," he says, but his voice shakes and Voldemort hears it.

"Get me the stone, Harry, and I can give you all you've ever wanted."

*FPS*

It's not like Harry doesn't want the stone either, because he sort of does. With it's ability to turn metals to gold he'd never have to steal anything in his life again, but with the elixir of life... maybe, just maybe, the vision of himself as a happy, healthy grown up could come true.

But he can't let Voldemort get it. It doesn't matter how desperately he wishes he could have his parents back, it's not possible. He knows that. Bringing back the dead is magic that not even he can do. He's tried; he'd found a kitten on the street once and taken it in, but it died and when he Wished it alive, it'd become only a ratty, slightly scary zombie-cat and he'd cried as he made himself kill it again.

*FPS*

"No. I'm not getting it."

"KILL HIM!"

Quirrell doesn't even bother with magic. He just lunges at Harry, knocking him to the floor, pinning him down and wrapping his hands around Harry's neck. Pain explodes across Harry's head, so intense that he can't even think to fight back against Quirrell—but he doesn't have to. Quirrell howls with pain and snatches his hands back.

"What magic is this?!" he cries, staring at his red, raw, blistering hands.

"Fool! Kill him!"

*FPS*

Quirrell raises his hand to cast a curse and Harry, head still stabbing, reaches up with his own hands and grabs Quirrell's face. Quirrell screams and jerks away and Harry follows, his pain-addled mind thinking only that he needed to keep his hands on Quirrell, keep him screaming and in pain so that he couldn't kill Harry. He grabs Quirrell's arm and Quirrell thrashes, trying to throw him off, free hand grabbing at Harry's fingers only to snatch back. _Stop!_ Harry thinks, and like the troll on Hallowe'en, Quirrell goes still, and Harry lets go of him, staggering back. He catches a glimpse of someone at the door and then the world spins and goes black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

He wakes up in a private room in the Hospital Wing. His wrists are bound in restraints, tying him to the bed and they don't fall off when he Wishes them too. In fact, nothing he Wishes works—he can't conjure, transfigure, or even levitate anything—and by the time the door opens and Madam Pomfrey walks in, he's in a full blown panic attack, hyperventilating and tugging furiously at the restraints.

*FPS*

Pomfrey rushes to his side, drawing her wand and tapping it to the restraints. They open, he snatches his hands away, and a swarm of butterflies pop into existence. Pomfrey jumps. Harry scrambles off the bed and flicks his hand. The butterflies turn to bees then to flower petals that drift down to settle over everything. The walls paint themselves every colour of the rainbow, the multitude of sweets on a table by the far wall lift into the air to hover for a few seconds, and the water on the bedside cabinet pours out of the glass, defying every law of gravity to whirl through the air, twisting itself into the shape of a fox that trots in a circle several times before slinking back to the glass and sliding back inside as though simply poured from a jug.

*FPS*

When it's over and the room's back to normal, Pomfrey's standing with her mouth hanging open and Harry's backed into the corner, still breathing hard but not hyperventilating.

*FPS*

The door opens and Dumbledore steps inside. His eyes settle on Harry and he smiles warmly, but Harry doesn't find it at all welcoming. Pomfrey forces herself to close her mouth and act like a professional again.

"Mr Evans, I'm glad to see you're awake," Dumbledore says.

"What did you do to me?" Harry asks in a slightly shaky voice. "Why couldn't I do magic on the bed?"

"The restraints are inscribed with magic suppression runes. We didn't want you waking up and disappearing while no one was there."

Harry flicks his gaze between Dumbledore and Pomfrey and tries to force his breathing to calm down. "What do you want with me?" he asks, and is glad to hear his voice is steadier now.

"Why don't you sit down?" Dumbledore suggests, gesturing to the bed. "We can have a nice chat. The restraints can stay off," he adds, noticing Harry's eyes going to them. "It was a precaution only and I'm sorry to have distressed you so much."

*FPS*

Harry hesitantly sits on the bed, Dumbledore conjures a chair to sit in, and Pomfrey leaves them be.

"You know who I am."

Dumbledore nods. "I've had quite an interesting conversation with Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom."

"Are they okay?"

"Perfectly fine."

"And the Stone? Quirrell didn't get it?"

"The Stone has been returned to Nicolas Flamel and will be destroyed."

Harry's gut lurches. "Destroyed? But..."

"Nicolas has enough elixir left to set his affairs in order," Dumbledore says, incorrectly predicting Harry's worry, "but then he will die, yes. We decided it was best, and to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Harry doesn't correct him on why he's bothered that the Stone's being destroyed. He wonders if, when his ten years are up, his mind will be well-organised enough to accept his death so calmly.

*FPS*

"What happens to me now?"

"My dear boy, don't sound so scared. I have been looking for you ever since you left your aunt and uncle's house; I cannot tell you have glad I am to have found you. And I must thank you. If you hadn't stopped Quirrell, Lord Voldemort may very well have retrieved the Stone tonight. The great risk you put yourself in is more than any person should."

"Someone had to do something. You were gone and McGonagall wouldn't listen. What happened to Quirrell? Has he been arrested? What about Voldemort? He was in Quirrell's _head_."

"Voldemort left Quirrell to die. He has fled once more."

"As what? The books all say he died the night he tried to kill me, but obviously he didn't. What happened to him?"

"No one knows how Voldemort survived that night. Certainly his body was destroyed but his spirit continues to live on. What you saw was what becomes of him when he possesses another person. With the Stone he would have been able to return to his true self and his full power."

"Then it's safe now, if the Stone's destroyed."

"I'm afraid there are other ways for him to return," Dumbledore says quietly. "We have not seen the last of Lord Voldemort."

*FPS*

"Were you the one that I saw right before I passed out?"

Dumbledore nods. "I feared I was too late. I was halfway to the Ministry when I realised that where I really needed to be was here."

"Did you see what happened to Quirrell when I touched him? It hurt him, _really_ hurt him, and that wasn't me doing that with magic."

"Your mother died to save you, Harry. That kind of love leaves a mark—not a scar, no visible sign... but to have been loved so strongly by someone, it leaves a protection even after the person is gone, something in your very skin. Voldemort, who doesn't understand love, could not bare to touch someone who'd been affected by something so pure."

"Why did he try to kill me when I was a baby?" Harry asks quietly. "Why did he come after my parents?"

Dumbledore lets out a sigh and Harry knows what he's going to say before he says it. "Alas, that is a question I cannot answer. One day, I will tell you, but for now put it from your mind. When you're older..."

"Older when?" he pushes. He wants to know before his ten years are up.

*FPS*

Instead of answering, Dumbledore fixes him with a firm look. "I think it's time you answered some of my questions."

Harry glances towards the door. Dumbledore notices. "I'm here to help you, Harry. You needn't be afraid of me."

"Are you going to throw me out?"

Once again, Dumbledore doesn't answer. "How long have you been at my school?"

"A year, near enough. I came up on the train last September."

"And where were you before that?"

"London."

"London is a big place."

"You're telling me. I still got lost after three years."

"You've been in London since leaving your aunt and uncle's house? Living where exactly?"

"Anywhere I could find space."

"On the streets? Alone?"

Harry shrugs defensively. "Yeah, so?"

"Why did you leave Little Whinging? You were safe there."

*FPS*

"I wasn't _safe_," Harry replies incredulously, and Dumbledore's gaze flicks to Harry's left eye.

"I realise the burglary must have scared you, however—"

"It wasn't a burglar," Harry interrupts. "My _uncle_ did this to me."

Dumbledore blinks. "Your uncle?"

"He nearly killed me and then he stabbed himself just so everyone would think it was a burglar."

"Why would he do that?"

Harry's face turns angry. "I knew no one would believe me. That's why I never told."

"I didn't say I don't believe you," Dumbledore says calmly. "I merely asked why he would do such a thing."

"I don't know," Harry snaps. "He never told me why he liked beating me up, did he? He just did it. And when it went too far he didn't want to get arrested so he makes up that story. He's crazy, that's probably why."

"Putting you in hospital wasn't the first time he hurt you?"

"He's always hurt me. Little Harry Potter, the freak who lived. "

"You are not a freak," Dumbledore says quietly, but there's anger burning in his eyes.

Harry scoffs. "Yeah, right. He always called me that—him and my aunt—and now I've got magic no one else does, and a messed up eye, and this stupid scar on my forehead. They realised I was a freak before anyone else did."

"You are not a freak," Dumbledore repeats.

Harry just scowls.

*FPS*

"I would like to ask you some questions about your magic. Miss Granger said you called it 'Wish Magic'?"

Harry nods.

"Could you show me?"

The glass of water lifts off the cabinet by the bed and floats over to Harry, who lifts his hand and takes it, drinking some then sending it floating back.

"How long have you been able to do this?"

"Forever," Harry lies.

"I understand you're also capable of turning invisible..." he trails off as Harry vanishes. "Harry, if you'll permit me, I'd like to cast a few spells just to test the extent of your invisibility."

"You can't see me, what more is there to test?"

"I would like to see if you're merely invisible to the naked eye, or to magical means of detection as well. It won't hurt."

"Alright."

*FPS*

He sits for fifteen minutes as Dumbledore casts spell after spell. He calls in Madam Pomfrey to confirm whether Harry succeeds at making himself invisible to only one person (he does) and also attempts a number of spells to try and make Harry visible, none of which work.

*FPS*

"Have you been hidden like this ever since you ran away from your aunt and uncle's?" Dumbledore asks when he's finally finished with his spells.

"Pretty much. Why?"

"It explains why we were never able to find you. You are completely undetectable by magical means. So far as spells are concerned, you do not even exist."

*FPS*

"So what happens now?" Harry asks him, fully visible again. "You throw me out?"

"You will have to leave the school for the summer, yes, but you will of course come back in September as a proper student."

Dumbledore expects surprise and gratitude from Harry; instead he gets suspicion.

"I broke into your school, have been living here in secret, snuck past all those protections and aided in getting a teacher killed, and you're giving me a place at the school?"

"Your name has been down for Hogwarts since you were born. Your parents both attended and you should have started this past September. We were unable to find you to send a letter, but you can begin this next school year."

"Begin... so as a first year?"

Dumbledore nods. "I realise that for your age you should be a second year, but you will have to begin with the first years, despite your impressive power. Wand based magic is not the same as your Wish Magic."

Harry scowls but nods and doesn't argue. He doesn't want to risk Dumbledore changing his mind and deciding he won't let Harry join at all.

*FPS*

"Sir, I will be joining as Harry Evans, won't I? Because I'm not going back to being Harry Potter."

Dumbledore looks at him for a moment, his blue eyes considering behind his half-moon glasses. "People will realise who you are by your scar."

Harry Wishes his scar hidden and asks innocently, "What scar?"

Dumbledore doesn't look impressed, but there's a twinkle in his eye. "Very well. Only some of the staff shall know who you really are unless you choose to divulge the information yourself."

"Why only some of the staff? Not that I want them all to know," he adds quickly, then asks, "Who knows about me already?"

"It's not necessary for them all to know. For now, only myself, Madam Pomfrey, and Professors McGonagall and Snape know. I will also inform Professors Sprout and Flitwick."

*FPS*

Dumbledore asks about the Assistant, who Hermione and Neville had mentioned, but Harry can't tell him much more than they did. After that Dumbledore says he can stay at the school for the rest of the term while Dumbledore arranges a place for him to live during the holidays. Harry doesn't mention the Room of Requirement and Dumbledore says he can sleep in the room they're in for the last few weeks instead of using classrooms.

*FPS*

"Sir, I just have one last question."

"Fire away, my boy."

Harry points at the table of sweets. "What's all that for?"

"Ah! Tokens and gifts from your admirers."

"Admir- what?"

"You see, what happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows."

"Wha- but—about me? You said no one would know!"

"They know only that Harry Potter defeated Professor Quirrell and has since been in the infirmary. They don't know what you look like and Madam Pomfrey has done an excellent job of keeping out those who tried to sneak in. When you begin as a student, not one of them will be any the wiser that you're the same person who so bravely faced Lord Voldemort."

*FPS*

Harry gets a visit from Neville and Hermione later that day. He's startled when Hermione flings her arms around his neck in a hug, but he awkwardly pats her on the back.

"There's all sorts of rumours about what happened with Professor Quirrell," she tells him. "And they all know about you of course—not that you've been hiding here or your Wish Magic or anything, but they all just know you were involved."

"We didn't tell them," Neville adds. "They just sort of... knew. Or guessed, maybe. I don't know. What _did_ happen anyway?"

*FPS*

He tells them. When he mentions that he'll be joining as a proper student in September, Hermione beams at him and Neville gives him a congratulatory clap on the shoulder.

"Shame you won't be in our year; we could have shared a dorm."

"If I get in Gryffindor."

"You think you won't, after what you just did? I'm pretty sure taking on You Know Who is the definition of bravery."

"Maybe," Harry concedes, "but I'm a history nerd and spend most of my time studying so I could easily end up in Ravenclaw."

"Well wherever you end up, we'll still be friends," Neville says, but doesn't sound confident. Harry grins, and the other boy relaxes and grins back.

*FPS*

The day term ends, Dumbledore brings Harry a pair of leather wrist cuffs when he comes to pick him up to go to wherever Harry will be living now. Harry's confused until Dumbledore asks him to put them on and try to do magic only to find that he can't. When he tries to take them off, they refuse to come undone and Harry fixes Dumbledore with an angry glare.

"Get them off."

Dumbledore doesn't. "They will suppress your magic to that of a normal witch or wizard."

"I don't care, take them off!"

"Harry, I'm sorry, but you're too powerful for someone so young. I cannot allow you to wander about with so much power at your fingertips. When you're older and better trained, I will gladly remove them."

"No, you take them off now!" Harry screams, shoving him. "Take them off, take them off, _take them off!_"

*FPS*

Dumbledore flicks his wand and Harry slides back and drops into the chair by the bed, his bottom sticking to it so he can't stand. "If you want to be a student here, you will learn to be more respectful to your teachers."

"You've taken my magic!" Harry spits.

"I have suppressed it. You will still be able to cast spells perfectly well with a wand when you get one."

"What about my scar? I'm supposed to be hiding. I'm not being Harry Potter, I'd rather go back to the streets than that."

Dumbledore looks sad. "Surely you don't mean that."

"I do," Harry says furiously. "Harry Potter's _dead_. I'm not him and I'm not having every gawking at me like Hermione and Neville did at first."

"When you have a wand, you can learn a Concealing Charm that will hide your scar. You will need someone to escort you to Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies; they can teach you it then."

"Students aren't allowed to do magic outside of school," he points out grumpily, "and I don't have any money to buy my school supplies."

"You're not yet a student; that rule won't apply. As for money, you needn't worry. Your parents left you a substantial fortune when they died. I have the key to their vault; whoever comes to take you shopping will bring it then."

He wants to argue, but he doesn't see that he has much choice.

*FPS*

He and Dumbledore take a portkey to a street in Thetford, in Norfolk. It reminds Harry uncomfortably of Privet Drive—neat rows of houses with very little to individualise them, and flashy but practical cars that occasionally gleam when the grey clouds move and let a stream of sunlight shine through.

Harry follows Dumbledore up the front path to the house with a big '12' on the front door and asks, when Dumbledore knocks, who it is that lives here.

"I really should know something about the people I'm staying with."

Dumbledore doesn't answer. A figure approaches the door, blurred through the frosted glass set into it, but as the handle turns and the door starts to open, Harry gets a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and when the door opens fully, he thinks he might throw up.

*FPS*

Petunia's expression seems to be torn between fear, hatred, and simple disgust.

"Get inside," she snaps. "I'll not have you hanging around on my doorstep where the neighbours will see you."

Dumbledore beams and steps over the threshold. Harry doesn't move.

"You're not leaving me here."

"Harry—"

"After what I told you, you're bringing me back to _them?_"

"Come inside."

*FPS*

Harry shakes his head and backs up. "No. I'm not living with them."

He turns to run and an invisible hand grabs the back of his shirt and drags him inside. Petunia looks horrified and looks out the door, glancing up and down the street fearfully before slamming the door shut.

"You can't leave me here!" Harry shouts at Dumbledore. "He nearly killed me!"

"Shall we move through to the sitting room?" Dumbledore suggests, turning and walking through the nearest door before either Harry or Petunia can say anything. Harry reaches for the door handle but it's locked, although Petunia hadn't locked it and there's no key in sight. A furious scowl on his face, he slouches after Petunia, who's followed Dumbledore into the sitting room.

*FPS*

Apparently Dumbledore had been by before to talk to Petunia and Vernon. He'd made it very clear that if either of them laid a hand on Harry then they would have to answer to Dumbledore. Harry doesn't put much stock in his words. Vernon never responded to the threats of his mysterious gift giver all those years ago, just figured out how to work around it. No doubt the same would happen now.

Dumbledore tells him he has to stay with the Dursleys, or at least with Petunia, because there are protections on the house that Dumbledore can't put anywhere else, protections that prevent Voldemort or his followers from getting to Harry. He actually has the nerve to smile as he mentions the spells put up at a two mile radius around the house that will prevent Harry from running away while still allowing him to get out for fresh air and exercise. The entire time he's talking, Harry sits with a scowl on his face, arms folded on his face, glaring at Dumbledore and wishing furiously that he could take off the cuffs and turn the man into a rat.

*FPS*

When Dumbledore's gone, Petunia shows Harry to the smallest bedroom in the house—even smaller than the one Harry had at Privet Drive—and tells him that Dudley still has another week at Smeltings, his boarding school, and Vernon's at work. She's clearly no happier than Harry is about their living situation. She tells him dinner will be at six, that if he's not at the table when it's served he won't get anyway, and when he snidely asks, "You mean I actually get some?" she scowls and mutters something about Dumbledore, then snappishly tells him that other than mealtimes, she doesn't want to see him. She won't even give him chores to do, she's that eager for him to be out of her sight.

*FPS*

Vernon glances at him with mingled fear and hatred when he gets back from work, but says nothing, apparently deciding to pretend Harry doesn't exist. Harry's perfectly happy with this arrangement. The less he and his uncle interact, the better.

*FPS*

He tries cutting the cuffs off, both with scissors and a knife, but they appear to have been charmed against it because he doesn't even damage the material.

*FPS*

The week until Dudley returns is quiet. Vernon's at work most of the time and Petunia only ever scowls whenever Harry makes an appearance, which is only to eat. He wakes up when his aunt and uncle do, lying in bed and listening to Vernon get ready for work. When he's left, Harry gets up, washes and dresses then goes down for breakfast. Although he eats dinner with them, he has breakfast alone, and then if it's not raining he leaves the house and wanders the neighbourhood for most of the day. He tests the boundaries, but Dumbledore's spells hold. He's physically incapable of stepping further than two miles away from the house.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"BUT I DON'T WANT HIM HERE!"

It pains Harry that the first words he hears from his cousin are ones he whole-heartedly agrees with.

"It's _his _fault we had to move to this stupid place. Why is he here? Send him away again!"

Harry hasn't asked why the Dursleys had moved from Little Whinging. He'd been curious, but not enough to speak to his aunt or uncle.

*FPS*

Petunia promises Dudley a new computer to appease him about Harry's existence. It stops Dudley from shouting; it doesn't stop him from barging into Harry's room to tell him how much Dudley hates him and wishes he'd run away again and if he shows his face when Dudley's friends come around then Dudley will beat him up.

*FPS*

Harry's not afraid of Dudley. He stands half a head taller than Harry and twice as wide, but it's hard to be afraid of someone who's butt is so big it sags over the side of the kitchen chairs.

*FPS*

Instead of saying anything, Harry stares at Dudley. Petunia had told him that he wasn't to mention Dumbledore, Hogwarts, or magic to Dudley, who'd been told that Harry had been found living on the streets and come September would be attending a school for the criminally insane. Harry doesn't like being portrayed as some crazy person who needs to be locked up, but that doesn't mean he wasn't above using it to his own advantage.

For almost a minute he just stares at Dudley, unblinking, expression blank. His dull left eye only makes the effect better, and when Dudley starts to fidget uncomfortably, Harry lurches forward, yelling nonsense.

Dudley shrieks and almost trips over his own feet as he staggers back out the room. Harry sniggers, lying back down, and doesn't even care when Petunia comes up and tells him if he does anything like that again, he won't get fed.

*FPS*

The days pass slowly. He spends them outside for the most part, at the local park or simply wandering the streets. It's boring, but better than being in the house, and he's spends hours imagining the various ways he's going to get revenge on Dumbledore when he finally gets his cuffs off. He sleeps a lot too.

*FPS*

Vernon refrains from hitting Harry, but Dudley has no qualms about it. He and his friend Louis (who goes to the local secondary school but that's alright because he's _cool_... or so Dudley says) seek out Harry when they're bored and shove him around or beat him up. Petunia had told Dudley to leave Harry alone, but Dudley had taken that to mean that he simply needed to make sure there where no bruises where they'd be easily seen, so they just left his face alone.

"You should be grateful," Louis says after one particularly bad beating. "We're knocking the crazy out of you so you can be normal."

Harry rather thinks they're only making him crazier.

*FPS*

He's not sure if it's Louis and Dudley's beating or the simple stress of his living situation, but he's pretty sure he's having more seizures than usual. He also realises that he probably should have mentioned them to Madam Pomfrey before he left Hogwarts. He hadn't had any during his stay at the Hospital Wing, or at least he wasn't aware of having any, and out of habit had kept it secret along with everything else about himself. But if he's going to be a real student, he realises it's the kind of thing he should probably make the teachers aware of.

*FPS*

It takes Vernon twenty-four days and an owl swooping through the open kitchen window on Sunday morning before he loses his control and hits Harry. Petunia shrieks, Dudley lets out a high-pitched scream, and Vernon swears violently. The owl settles on top of the fridge-freezer and hoots once, turning baleful eyes on Harry, who hops out his chair and goes over.

"I can't reach you up there."

The owl jumps off, spreading its wings to glide down to the table instead. Dudley falls out of his chair in his urgency to get away, knocking his orange juice over as he goes, and Vernon scrambles to his feet. Petunia's stood by the sink, face turning angry now she's over the shock. Harry ignores them all and unties the envelope from the bird's leg. As soon as he does, the bird turns and snatches up the strips of bacon left on Dudley's plate.

*FPS*

It's his Hogwarts letter, as expected, with an accompanying note saying Professor McGonagall will be coming to take him to Diagon Alley a week later.

*FPS*

None of the Dursleys move until Harry's dug a pen from the bits and pieces drawer, scribbled a reply and sent the owl off again. As soon as it's vanished out the window, Vernon pulls it shut so hard the glass rattles, then grabs Harry by the shoulders and shakes him hard enough to make his head spin.

"I'll not have your freakishness in my house!" he spits.

"Get off me!" Harry yells back. "Dumbledore'll turn you into a slug!"

*FPS*

He might hate Dumbledore with a burning passion, but that doesn't mean he's above using the man for his own ends.

*FPS*

It's the wrong thing to say, Vernon backhands him across the face, knocking him back to hit the edge of the table.

"Vernon!" Petunia cries.

Harry lifts his gaze to Vernon's face, forcing his fear back behind anger. "Dumbledore'll turn you into a slug and then I'll pour salt on you."

"OUT!"

*FPS*

He leaves the house and doesn't come back until after dark. He misses dinner and the house is locked when he gets there. When Petunia answers the door at his knock, she looks at him as though he's a walking piece of dirt and snaps, "Upstairs."

*FPS*

He wakes early on the thirty-first, the day McGonagall will be taking him to Diagon Alley, unsure of what woke him until he realises there's a persistent tapping at the window. He gets up and pushes the curtains aside to see an owl outside with a parcel. He quickly opens the window to let it in and untie the package. The owl leaves as soon as it's relieved of its burden and Harry picks up the letter taped to the parcel.

*FPS*

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy birthday! Dumbledore gave me your address so I could write and I think he gave it to Hermione too. How are you? How are the people you're living with? Are they nice? Dumbledore says they're Muggles but know about magic, so I hope the owl doesn't scare them. What's it like living with Muggles anyway?_

_Hope you're well, write back soon_

_From,_

_Neville_

*FPS*

Inside the parcel is an Ultimate Honeydukes Selection Box which has enough sweets and chocolate to last him three months. He grins, picking out an ice mice and munching on it. It's a great start to what he hopes will be a great day.

*FPS*

Vernon seems to finds his cheerfulness offensive that morning, grumbling as he leaves for work, but Harry doesn't care. He doesn't even care when Dudley steals his last sausage. He's got a friend who sends him letters and a birthday present and today he'll be going shopping for his school things and he can finally get a wand and learn how to do a Concealing Charm for his scar.

*FPS*

The doorbell rings at precisely nine o'clock. Harry almost skips to answer it. He's got his backpack (he doesn't leave Kiwi or his figures—still shrunk down from Hogwarts as he never got a chance to enlarge them before Dumbledore put the cuffs on—unattended in the house with Dudley, not after the first time he tried to flush Kiwi down the toilet, and Harry's definitely not leaving chocolate anywhere his fat cousin could find it) and he's ready and eager to leave. But it's not McGonagall stood on the doorstep—it's Snape.

*FPS*

"You're not McGonagall," Harry blurts.

Snape raises an eyebrow. "Your observational skills are remarkable. Your manners are less so. It's rude to leave someone standing on the doorstep."

"Where's McGonagall? Aren't we leaving right now?" he asks nervously. He'd rather not have Snape meet his aunt and cousin.

"Professor McGonagall has fallen ill. I will be taking you instead and I would like to get this over and done with as quickly as possible, so if you've quite finished asking pointless questions—"

"'Scuse me," says a voice behind Snape. "Need someone ter sign fer this."

Snape steps aside to let the postman hand Harry a package with a couple of letters on top. Harry puts them on the sideboard while he scribbles a signature on the postman's clipboard.

*FPS*

"Come in," Harry mutters to Snape, picking up the parcel again "I'm just gonna take these to my aunt."

Snape grabs his shoulder, unbalancing him, and the letters slide to the floor.

"Your aunt?"

"Yeah, Aunt Pet- this is for me!"

His name and address is written in Hermione's neat script on the top of the parcel, which is about the size and shape of a book. He grins, puts it aside, and picks up the dropped letters. "Back in a sec, sir."

He goes to the kitchen, tosses the letters on the table, but before he can say he's leaving, Petunia gasps. Her eyes are fixed on the door and Harry turns. Snape's stood there, his dark eyes full of such hatred that Harry's surprised the kitchen itself doesn't shrink back from him.

*FPS*

"You," Petunia half-gasps. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"You know him?" Harry asks.

"Are you one of the workers at his school for crazy people?"

Snape looks at Dudley, who shrinks back. "Excuse me?"

"Go!" Petunia snaps. "Take the boy and get out."

Harry eager to leave too. He can tell by Snape's expression that there's going to be awkward questions later. The sooner they get out the house, the less Snape can find to ask him about.

Instead of leaving, Snape draws his wand. Petunia stiffens.

"You can't—"

"I can't what?" Snape interrupts coldly, a dangerous look on his face.

"He doesn't know," Petunia hisses with a nod towards Dudley.

"Then send him out. Our portkey leaves in three minutes and I will not be impressed if I have to come back again for the boy."

*FPS*

When Petunia's forced out a complaining Dudley, Snape turns to Harry and grabs his chin in hand. Harry cringes and jerks his head away. Snape's eyes flash.

"I was told you wanted the scar concealed."

"Oh," Harry says, pretending his cheeks aren't going red. "Yeah."

He brushes hair back from his forehead and tilts his head back. Snape touches the tip of his wand to the scar, tracing it along the lightning bolt as he murmurs a spell. When it's done, he pockets the wand and draws out a feather then checks his watch. "We have ninety—"

"My parcel!"

"You can get it later," Snape snaps, but Harry's already running from the kitchen, pushing past a half-furious, half-scared looking Petunia and stumbling into the hall just in time to see Dudley grab the parcel from the sideboard.

"That's mine!"

Dudley grabs it in and makes for the stairs. Harry sprints forwards, knocking into him. Dudley staggers and Harry grabs the parcel, trying to pull it from him.

"Get off! MUM! Harry's bullying me!"

"That's mine!" Harry yells at him. "Give it back!"

*FPS*

Dudley abruptly lets go of the parcel and staggers back like someone's hit him despite no one touching him. Harry clutches the parcel to his chest, glaring at the other boy, who's looking confused. Snape stands over Harry and Petunia rushes over to Dudley.

"Don't you use that—that—on my son!" she says furiously to Snape, but her eyes are on Harry. "You, give him the parcel."

"The parcel is his," Snape says before Harry can speak, and Harry turns it so the name on the front is visible. Petunia looks furious. Snape holds out the feather to Harry, who grabs it. Petunia barely has time to steps in front of Dudley before the two wizards vanish.

*FPS*

They reappear in the Leaky Cauldron. Snape pockets the feather then draws his wand and taps it to Harry's parcel, murmuring a Shrinking Spell.

"Thanks."

He shrugs off his backpack, putting it on an empty table to unzip it. He has to pull out the Honeydukes box, putting the parcel underneath.

"Why have you brought the entirety of your personal possessions?" Snape asks him.

"Not safe leaving them there. Dudley—" he breaks off. It's none of Snape's business. He starts trying to force the Honeydukes box back in but it becomes clear they won't fit now, even with the parcel shrunk down. Snape rolls his eyes and shrinks that too. Harry mutters another thanks, sticks it in and zips the bag up, shrugging it back on.

*FPS*

"Would you care to explain why your oaf of a cousin thought I worked at a school for 'crazy people'?"

Harry hunches his shoulders as they head down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts. He'd hoped Snape might have forgotten that.

"They didn't tell him about magic and said I was going to a school for the criminally insane," he mutters.

"And of course any attempt on your part to convince him of the truth would only have verified what his parents said."

Harry nods, wishing he'd been smart enough to realise that before he claimed he was a wizard. Dudley and Louis had thought it was hilarious. Vernon had turned so red with anger Harry thought he'd burst into flames. He'd been surprised the man had refrained from hitting him then.

*FPS*

Harry whoops when the Gringotts cart first sets off, but Snape shoots him such a disapproving look that he shuts up. When he sees the contents of the Potter vault, he staggers, mouth gaping. He's never seen so much money in one place.

"This is all mine?" he asks weakly.

Snape looks as disgusted as Harry is awed.

*FPS*

Harry wants to get his wand first. Snape has other ideas.

"I want to get this over and done with as quickly and as efficiently as possible. We go only to the stores necessary, buy only what you need, and we are not backtracking to anywhere, so I strongly advise you make sure you've got what you need in each store before leaving. Is that clear?"

Harry nods. Snape raises an eyebrow and Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, sir," he says.

"Good. Then we will start with your robes."

*FPS*

When Harry starts browsing the other robes available in Madam Malkins, Snape pointedly reminds him that he's only to buy what he needs.

"I _do_ need robes," Harry replies. "I've got hardly any clothes and no robes at all. I can't wear my school uniform all the time."

A muscle twitches in Snape's jaw, but he sits in a chair by the door and folds his arms over his chest, resigning himself to a longer wait.

*FPS*

After Madam Malkins they get his stationary supplies and then a trunk (Charmed Against Fire, Thieves, and Spell Damage! Includes Thirty Year Wear-and-Tear Guarantee or Your Money Back! (Terms and Conditions Apply)) and then they're at Ollivander's and Harry's practically bouncing with excitement.

There's someone else in there being served, a young girl with her parents and a little brother who watches jealously as the girl tries out wand after wand. Snape and Harry wait to one side and when the family have left, Harry approaches the counter with a grin. Ollivander returns the smile then nods a greeting to Snape.

*FPS*

"We'll start with ebony, like your father's. Ten inches, unicorn hair core."

Harry takes the wand, frowning. "How do you know who my father is?"

Ollivander's eyes flick to Snape. Harry turns, looks at him, then spins back. "He's not my dad!"

Ollivander looks back at him. "I do apologise. Nevertheless, give it a wave."

Harry does. Nothing happens and Ollivander snatches it away and gives him another. "Yew, twelve inches, dragon heartstring."

That one does nothing either. He tries the next, and the next, and it feels like he's been through nearly the entire shop and is beginning to wonder if his Wish Magic means he can't use wand magic when Ollivander hands him a holly wand with a phoenix feather core.

He knows it's the one for him instantly. A warm tingle spreads through his fingers and when he swishes it through the air, a stream of multicoloured sparks fly from the end.

"Excellent," Ollivander murmurs. "If I may, what's your name, young man?"

"Harry Evans," he tells him, grinning and twirling the wand between his fingers. "Can I get a holster?"

"Of course," Ollivander replies, thoughtful eyes fixed on Snape. "That'll be seven galleons and sixteen sickles."

*FPS*

Harry avoids looking at Snape when they leave the store. When Ollivander assumed Snape was his father, Harry had been only shocked and mostly interested in getting a wand, but now he feels awkward. Snape is going to be his _teacher_; being mistaken for his son is embarrassing. And what did Snape think of it? Probably disgust. Harry thinks he's the kind of man who's horrified by the idea of having kids of his own, despite being a teacher. It's not like he seemed to like _any_ of the students. It makes Harry wonder why he became a teacher in the first place, but he's not about to ask.

*FPS*

They go to Flourish and Blotts next, and Harry forgets Ollivander's words as he disregards Snape's only-what-you-need command and buys not only his set textbooks, but _Hogwarts: A History_ andhalf a dozen other interesting looking books.

*FPS*

In the Apothecary, Snape goes into the back of the store where the restricted items are while the shop clerk made up a supply kit with the basic ingredients a new student would need. Harry's about to pay when Snape comes back and stops him, checking through the kit. He declares it in need of several more ingredients the clerk didn't include, deems a few of them unfit for use and insults the clerk while asking him to fetch better ones, and only when he's satisfied does he allow Harry to pay. He gets similarly pedantic when they go to the cauldron shop, inspecting the pewter ones and, when Harry asks why they don't just take the nearest, pointing out that a damaged cauldron can affect the potions made in it.

*FPS*

"Aren't you hot in those robes?"

Snape glances down at Harry, who's long since taken off his jumper and tied it round his waist, leaving him in just a t-shirt and wishing he'd had shorts to wear instead of jeans. Snape, as always, is in sweeping black robes.

"Cooling Charms."

*FPS*

Harry's surprised when Snape suggests they go into Quality Quidditch supplies when Harry stops to peer through the window at the Nimbus 2001 on display.

"No point," Harry says, trying not to sound bitter. "First years aren't allowed brooms and I can't play Quidditch anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Can't catch a ball that's flying upwards of fifty miles an hour when you're half-blind. Can we go in there?"

Snape looks around at the toy store then raises an eyebrow at him. "You're twelve years old."

"It's my birthday," Harry replies defensively. "I want to get myself something."

*FPS*

He gets _Famous Figurines: Quidditch Players Edition_. It's on one of the higher shelves and he has to get on tiptoes to reach it. As he is, his shirt sleeve falls back, revealing the fingerprint bruises on his upper arm that Louis had left the last time he held Harry still so Dudley could beat him up. He doesn't even notice until Snape grabs his arm and pushes his sleeve up further.

"Where did those come from?"

Harry glances at them then at Snape. "My cousin. Just messing around."

He doesn't need to admit to Snape that he's his cousin's punching bag. It's bad enough Snape saw their fight earlier and knows Harry keeps everything he owns in his backpack because of Dudley.

"Just messing around should not leave you battered and bruised."

Harry jerks his arm away. "It's nothing," he mutters, taking the _Figurines_ box and approaching the counter.

*FPS*

For a pet, he buys an owl, a beautiful snowy white one.

*FPS*

"Are you going to teach me the Concealing Charm now? Dumbledore said I could learn it."

It's a little after one and they've got everything. All his packages have been put in his trunk, some shrunk down to fit, and the trunk shrunk down to fit in his pocket.

"We'll take lunch at the Leaky Cauldron first," Snape tells him.

*FPS*

Snape pays for their lunches. Harry points out that he doesn't need Snape to, but the man gives him a withering glare and he hurriedly changes his words to a thank you instead.

*FPS*

When they've finished eating, Snape tells him that he can't learn the Concealing Charm here so they'll be going to Snape's house to do it. Harry, who'd hoped that the incident in the toy shop would be the last awkward moment he'd have to endure that day, decides this is definitely by far the worst. Going to a teacher's _house_? It just wasn't done. Even he knew that.

But he needs to learn the Concealing Charm, so he pushes the awkwardness aside, grips the portkey, makes sure he's got a tight grip on his owl's cage, and feels a wrench in his gut as the portkey activates.

* * *

**A/N:** For anyone who's interested, I've made a tumblr for this fic which will have bits of extra info; there's a link on my author page. There's not much at the moment but I will add to it as the story goes on. Also, you can use it to gush your praises for my writing (kidding) or ask any question you might have. I don't tend to respond to reviews, but I'll answers direct questions over on the tumblr.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Snape's house is small and dark. They portkey directly into a small sitting room that's dark and full of books. Even the windows and doors, save for the one leading outside, are hidden behind bookshelves. The only space left free is the small fireplace, which isn't even big enough to floo in, though it is big enough for a floo call apparently, as the moment they appear Snape leads Harry into a tiny kitchen and says, "I need to make a floo call. Sit down. Don't touch anything. Where's the parcel you received this morning?"

Harry digs out the parcel and holds it out. Snape enlarges it back to it's proper size then disappears back into the sitting room and shuts the door behind him. Harry sits at the two-person table and unwraps the package. Inside is a book on the sixteenth century European vampire uprising and a letter three times as long as the one Neville sent, talking about Hermione's holiday and how busy she is with school work despite not even being at school, and mentioning that she'd sent the parcel by Muggle post because she wasn't sure if his guardians were accepting of owl post even if they did know about it. He smiles as he reads, feeling a bubble of joy in his chest. After a month of the Dursleys, this reminder that he has friends means the world to him.

*FPS*

Snape's gone for nearly twenty minutes but Harry barely notices, reading his book. The vampire uprising is a controversial issue, particularly how it began. Wizards are unsure and none of the vampires who were involved are willing to talk, so there are theories abound on how it all started.

*FPS*

"In here."

Harry puts his book aside and eagerly goes back to the sitting room, drawing his wand from the holster on his arm then looking expectantly at Snape.

"The Concealing Charm is a second year spell. I've been told you've studied first year magical theory and if you've done so sufficiently I expect you to have no trouble with it. The motions involved are relatively simple and dependant on the area of skin being concealed. For example, your scar would require only a zigzag motion. Were you casting it over the entire face, as is the norm, a circular motion would be required."

"Why would you do it on the entire face? You'd look weird wandering around with your face all concealed."

"You are thinking of a Concealment Spell."

"There's a difference?"

Snape gives him a look that clearly says he's an idiot. "A Concealment Spell is for obscuring objects. A Concealing Charm is a cosmetic spell."

"Cos- wait, so I'm basically wearing _make-up_?"

Snape raises an eyebrow and Harry pushes back his complaints about being a boy who wears make-up. "What's the incantation?"

*FPS*

It takes just under an hour for him to master it, which annoys him. He's used to being able to do any magic instantly; it feels slow to have to practice and perfect everything, but he realises he'll have to get used to it. Until he can get the cuffs off, everything's going to be slowly learnt.

*FPS*

"I suppose I have to go back now. Are we taking another portkey?"

"Mr Evans, sit down."

Harry gives him a curious look but does as ordered and settles on a threadbare sofa. Snape sits himself in the old armchair. "I spoke to the headmaster earlier. He has agreed that, if you wish to, you may remain with me for the rest of the holidays."

*FPS*

He has to stop himself from blurting out an instant yes. He _does_ want to get away from the Dursleys even if it means living with a teacher for a month (it's not like anyone will know anyway; he's not telling and he doubts Snape will) but on the tail of his joy and gratitude is suspicion. Why would Snape offer to take him in? Why would Dumbledore agree to it? He went to all the effort of tricking Harry into going back to the Dursleys and putting up spells to keep him there, now he's just going to let Harry leave them?

*FPS*

"I'm very grateful for the offer, but why would you do that?"

"I have concerns about your health that will be more easily investigated away from your... family."

"I told you those bruises—"

"Do not lie to me again. I am not an idiot and lying will only embarrass you."

Harry scowls and doesn't look at him.

"However, those were not my only concern. Since picking you up," he continues when Harry looks up questioningly, "you have, for lack of a better term, 'zoned out' twice and been completely unaware of doing so, whilst also suffering facial tics. Your expression right now tells me this isn't news to you."

"I was going to mention it when school started," he mumbles.

"Mention what? And don't mumble."

"I might be epileptic."

"You 'might'?"

"The seizures started after I ran away so I couldn't ever see a doctor or anything. Hermione thinks it's probably because of my—because of when I was attacked as a kid."

"I wasn't aware Miss Granger had a degree in healing," Snape says dryly. "Of course a twelve year old girl is far better equipped to manage a serious medical condition than a licensed healer."

"I was _hiding_; I couldn't tell anyone and she just figured it out like you did. Besides, it was fine. I managed. But like I said, I was going to mention it. I just forgot about it when I was at the Hospital Wing."

*FPS*

They go back to the Dursleys so Harry can pick up the few clothes he has there and Snape can tell Petunia that Harry won't be living there anymore.

*FPS*

"...Lily would much prefer you looking after her brat."

Harry pauses at the kitchen door, ears strained. He's never heard Petunia talk about her sister before, except to complain about her having the nerve to die and leave Harry to Petunia's care.

Harry can't hear Snape's reply, just a murmur, and he can only hear half of what his aunt says next.

"... both got ... deserved..."

But he clearly hears her stifled, terrified shriek. Dudley obviously hears it too, because he comes thundering out of the sitting room, pushes past Harry and opens the kitchen door.

"Mum, are you okay?"

Petunia's backed up against the counters and Snape's stood in the middle of the kitchen. His wand is tucked up against his arm, the black wood blending in with his black robe, and Dudley doesn't notice it at all, but Harry does.

"Have you got everything?" Snape asks, acting like nothing happened and slipping the wand into his pocket.

"Yeah."

Snape looks around at Petunia once more, glances at Dudley, who's looking nervously between Snape and his mother, and then stalks out the room, Harry following.

*FPS*

Snape's house only has two bedrooms. Snape points to the first and says if Harry so much as steps foot in it then he can expect to spend his first month at Hogwarts serving detention. The second is a little bigger than the one Harry had at the Dursleys and doesn't have a bed in it, just a small desk and a lot of books. Harry's starting to think Snape's a bigger bookworm than he is.

*FPS*

"We'll spend the rest of the afternoon clearing this room. One of the Hogwarts elves will be coming by at eight with a bed."

Harry nods. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate you doing this."

Snape's only acknowledgement is a brief glance. "Start by removing the ones on the lower shelves. Keep them in order. I'll be back in a moment."

Harry kneels in front of a bookcase as Snape leaves. He comes back a few minutes later with a old and battered looking trunk that he sits in the middle of the room and casts an undetectable expansion charm on before he starts pulling down books as well.

*FPS*

"Sir, did you know my mother?"

They've finished clearing out the room and now sit in Snape's kitchen on either side of small table eating slightly over-cooked stew. Snape's skills in potions apparently didn't transfer to cooking.

"We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"Were you friends?"

Snape doesn't answer immediately. His eyes are fixed on his meal and Harry watches him. He knows so little about either of his parents that's he's eager for any scrap of information he can get.

"As much as a Slytherin and Gryffindor can be," Snape answers eventually.

"She was in Gryffindor? What about my dad? Did you know him?"

"Finish eating. Afterwards you can wash up. I expect you to keep your room clean and help around the house as necessary while you're here."

Harry nods. The rest of the meal passes in silence.

*FPS*

That evening, after the house elf has delivered the bed, Harry shuts himself in the room and looks through the _Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ until he finds a Cutting Curse. He doesn't really expect it to work, but he's going to try anyway. He has to take any chance he can at getting the cuffs off.

*FPS*

Unlike the Concealing Charm, the spell works on his first try—just not on his cuffs. He rushes to the cramped little bathroom and wads up a bunch of tissue to press to his bleeding arm, thinking maybe he should have tested it on a bit of parchment or something before he tried using it on anything so close to his skin, especially when the tissue is bright red and falling apart in mere seconds. He panics, reaches for the towel, then stops, thinking Snape won't be impressed if he gets blood all over his towels, even if it is navy and it wouldn't really be that obvious. But the blood really is gushing out scarily fast and maybe he should just call Snape anyway. He'll call Harry an idiot and probably take away his wand or something, but hopefully he'd do it after fixing his arm.

*FPS*

"Professor!"

Snape ignores the first call. If Harry wants to talk to him, he can damn well walk down the stairs to do it. He's not going to be summoned like some pet dog.

"Sir?"

He frowns. It sounds almost as if he's struggling not to cry.

"Sir, please..."

He gets up then, because that's not a tearful tone, but one of pure, unbridled panic.

*FPS*

The bedroom's empty but the bathroom door is ajar. He pushes it open and his heart drops. Harry's sprawled against the side of the bath tub, barely conscious, his left arm covered in blood that's dripping over the floor and soaking the towel gripped loosely in his right hand.

*FPS*

Harry wakes up in a hospital room. Snape's in a chair by the bed but he gets up when he notices Harry's awake. He doesn't say anything, just walks out the room and comes back soon after with a man wearing lime-green robes, who smiles at Harry and comes to stand by the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asks as Harry sits up

"Alright."

"Gave us quite the scare, you know. You want to tell us what happened?"

"I was practising spells. The Cutting Curse."

"On _yourself_?"

"No! It was an accident. I didn't mean to!"

"Alright," he says placatingly, "that's fine, accidents happen. You're all healed up just fine anyway. The professor there stopped your bleeding and got you here quick, and we gave you a Blood Replenishment potion so you'll be just fine. You'll be free to go in the morning, so for now just get some rest, there's a good lad. And maybe leave practising any more magic until you're at Hogwarts, eh?"

*FPS*

When he's gone, Harry hesitantly looks over at Snape, wondering how much trouble he's in. Snape's face is carefully blank of any emotion, but his arms are folded over his chest and one leg's crossed over the other.

"Was this a suicide attempt?"

"What? No!"

"The Cutting Curse slices through whatever the wand is aimed it. You are competent enough to know how to hold a wand, so unless you'd suddenly lost all your senses, you cannot possibly have nearly killed yourself just by practising spells."

"I was trying to get the cuffs off. I thought a Cutting Curse might work but I didn't aim very well. I wasn't trying to kill myself, I swear."

*FPS*

Snape's voice is quietly furious. "You almost killed yourself because you couldn't be bothered to undo a simple buckle?"

"What? No. They're _stuck_. Didn't Dumbledore tell you about them?"

"Dumbledore does not concern himself with the ridiculous fashion choices of a stupid child."

"He put them on!" Harry half-yells. "They're magic suppression and he tricked me into putting them on and now he won't take them off and give me my magic back."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you don't know, I'm not telling."

"You almost gave me a heart attack by bleeding all over my bathroom; you _will _tell me."

Harry flushes, looking down. He's got no rebuttal to that.

*FPS*

When he's finished reluctantly telling Snape about his Wish Magic, Snape draws his wand and drags the chair closer to the bed, grabbing Harry's hand and holding it still as he touches his wand to the cuff. He inspects them both, casting a few spells before eventually straightening up and slipping his wand away again.

"They're Magic Locked."

"I told you that."

"Magic Locked, not magically locked. A Magic Lock is tying a spell into the caster, making it so they're the only person who can end it. Unless I'm much mistaken, your cuffs are Magic Locked by the headmaster; he's the only person who's able to remove them."

Harry feels like screaming.

"I hate him," he grumbles instead, flopping back against the pillows. "I hate him and I hope he gets eaten by a manticore."

*FPS*

The next morning Snape arranges for him to see a specialist healer about his epilepsy and about the possibility of getting a magical eye to replace his useless left one.

*FPS*

Snape doesn't confiscate his wand, but he does make Harry write lines. Five hundred times he has to write out the sentence: _I will consider the consequences of my actions before I do anything_.

*FPS*

He spends most of his time reading and practising magic under Snape's supervision. Snape doesn't have much of a garden but there's a river not far away and when the weather's good he takes a book and sits by it to read. His chores consist of doing the washing up after every meal and keeping the kitchen clean. He still sleeps a lot, but assumes it's just out of habit from the past month and he'll break it eventually.

He writes to Hermione and Neville, thanking them for their presents and telling Hermione that using owl post is fine and she can send letters back with his. He also asks Hermione to write a description of what it's like when he has a seizure, because when they'd booked his appointment the healer had said that witness descriptions would be crucial to his diagnosis. He names his owl Hedwig and lets her out every night to go flying and hunting. Although Snape doesn't say anything about her, Harry gets the impression he's not happy about having an owl living in his house and Harry's careful to keep her cage and his room clean.

*FPS*

The night before he's due to see the healer, Snape clears his throat in the middle of dinner and says, "If you're determined not to be recognised as the Boy Who Lived, you may want to consider the option of a non-permanent iris re-colouration."

"A what?"

"An iris re-colouration. It's a procedure that changes the colour of your eye," he explains when Harry continues to look blank.

"Why would I do that?"

"Between your eyes and your chosen surname, anyone who knew your mother would be able to guess your parentage."

"From my _eyes_?"

Snape frowns. "Surely you're aware that your eyes are the same as your mother's."

Harry shakes his head. "I've never seen any pictures of her or my dad."

*FPS*

A long pause follows his statement. Harry continues to eat, eyes fixed on the Spaghetti Bolognese. Snape's own fork doesn't move until he speaks again.

"I will speak to Professor McGonagall. She was their Head of House; she may have photos that she can give you."

Harry jerks his head up. "Really? You'd do that?"

Snape scowls. "Not if you start spewing sickening amounts of gratitude."

Harry nods, but he can't help grinning and enthusiastically thanking him once.

*FPS*

For the epilepsy part of the meeting, he has an electroencephalogram—which involves casting a complex spell on his head and on a special quill, which then stands upright on a strip of parchment and records his brain activity—and spends a great deal of time answering numerous questions about his medical history, lifestyle, and his personal experience with seizures. When the healer, Kirith Karpel starts asking about his family medical history, Harry's surprised when Snape hands over a sheaf of papers and parchments containing all the relevant information.

Between that and Snape and Hermione's witness accounts, Kirith says it's highly likely that epilepsy is the problem, but that she still wants to see the results of the MRI and she needs to do a prolonged EEG, which means spending anywhere from one day to a week in the hospital, and there's less than three weeks until term starts.

*FPS*

There's no chance for him to get the EEG before late September, which means either taking time off from school or waiting until the winter holidays. Either way, Kirith decides to start him on an anti-convulsion potion that he'll have to take every day. It's one of three available anti-convulsions potions and Snape spends ten minutes discussing with Kirith why she's chosen that one over the others, apparently having read up on them prior to the appointment. Harry's also given a booklet with a variety of medical ID bracelets and a form so he can send off for one, and told to start keeping a seizure diary so they can keep track of when he has them.

*FPS*

"I'm sure you realise there are certain activities that you shouldn't be participating in unsupervised—flying, swimming, anything where having a seizure will put you at risk of serious harm."

"But I can fly, can't I? Just not alone."

"You can but I advise against it. Try to avoid extreme heights and make sure your flying partner is skilled enough to be able to catch you if you fall. It should be an adult, not just a friend."

*FPS*

She examines his eye next and Harry's not happy with the verdict.

"Physically, there's no reason I can't fit you with a replacement eye, however with any prosthetic we have to forge a magical nervous system to bring sensations and full manoeuvrability back. With something like an eye, it's especially delicate and in a child or teenager we have to be careful that the magical nerves won't interfere with their development. Doing so could affect them not only physically but magically. With epilepsy, you would be at even greater risk, and if there's scarring in your brain then it may not be possible to create a working magical nervous system at all. Whatever the case, I don't want to do anything until after the MR and extended EEG."

He's disappointed, especially after reading the leaflets in the waiting room about the different types of magical eyes. He'd just assumed it would be one that gives him his vision back; he hadn't realised that it'd be possible to get eyes that look through walls, or spin in the socket completely independent of his good eye, or ones that he could continue to look through even if he took it out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

An owl brings a small parcel for Harry on the twenty-eighth. It's not the owl that normally brings Neville's letters and Hermione's always come with Hedwig, so he opens it with a frown. Inside is a photo album and a note.

*FPS*

_Mr Evans,_

_Professor Snape said you had no photos your parents. I asked several people who knew them if they had photographs to spare and this was the result. It might not make up for losing your parents, but I hope it helps._

_Yours,_

_Professor McGonagall_

*FPS*

Snape had been right about him having his mother's eyes and he's glad he didn't ask for iris re-colouration, even temporarily, because it's a connection to his mother and he wouldn't give that up for the world. He's got his father's dark hair but his is tamer than James' wild mess, but that's all the similarity he can see between them and he supposes he must look mostly like Lily. He spends all morning looking at the pictures, staring at their happy, smiling faces, committing them to memory. He doesn't go downstairs and face Snape until he's sure the tears have dried and his eyes are no longer red.

*FPS*

On the thirty first, Snape takes Harry and his belongings to Hermione's house in Oxford. He's going to stay with Hermione and her parents for the night then accompany them to King's Cross the next morning.

Mr and Mrs Granger are friendly people. Hermione confesses that she's told them about him—his true name and his fame—and he worries they'll ask questions and make a fuss, but they treat him like any other kid. They have Chinese takeout for dinner and Mr and Mrs Granger listen with indulgent smiles when Harry and Hermione get into a debate on the European vampire uprising.

*FPS*

"So you can't do Wish Magic at all?"

"Nothing. Can't even turn a matchstick into a needle. It sucks."

"Well I'm sure Dumbledore's got a good reason."

"Yeah, he doesn't like a kid having so much power."

"Maybe he just wants you to learn how to do wand magic without your Wish Magic getting in the way, so you'll know how to do both if you ever need to."

*FPS*

Harry disagrees, but he doesn't argue with her. Hermione's clearly not going to believe that the famous Albus Dumbledore could do something like this for his own purposes. He doesn't mention that he'd left Harry with his uncle despite knowing what he'd done; after all, Vernon had hit him only once in the month he'd been there, so what did he really have to complain about?

*FPS*

Mrs Granger drives them to the station alone the next morning as Mr Granger has to work. Harry finds it strange to sit in a car; he hasn't travelled in one for years.

*FPS*

On the platform Harry shakes Mrs Granger's hand and thanks her for letting him stay with them then goes to grab a carriage while Hermione says goodbye, and they're joined by Neville five minutes before the train's due to leave.

The trip to Hogwarts is a lot better this time, when he's visible and can sit in a carriage without worrying about trying to stay hidden, and he can talk and laugh with his friends. He spends half of it sleeping though. He's not sure why he's so tired when he slept perfectly fine the night before.

*FPS*

He starts getting a bit nervous when they reach Hogsmeade and he steps on to the platform to hear Hagrid's booming voice calling for the first years. Hermione and Neville head off with the rest of the older students, leaving Harry to shuffle over to the group of first years, uncomfortably aware that he doesn't know any of them and wondering if he should have spent the journey meeting some of them instead of sitting with Hermione and Neville.

*FPS*

Crossing the lake, Harry's in a boat with three other boys. One of them throws up over the side as they cross, drawing disgusted noises from people in the nearby boats and a few laughs.

"It's okay," a blond, baby-faced boy says to Harry, who's eying the sick boy worriedly. "He gets travel sick and his potion's worn off. He'll be fine when we get back on land. I'm Alex Stone by the way. That's Tyler Lyle."

"Harry Evans. What about you?" he asks the fourth boy, who has electric blue hair.

"Ed Coleman. It was my brother's idea of a joke," he explains when Harry opens his mouth to ask about his hair.

*FPS*

Tyler doesn't look much better when they reach the castle, but he does stop throwing up. When McGonagall greets them in the Entrance Hall, she glances worriedly at Tyler and scolds Ed, but casts a spell to return his hair to a light brown when he explains that it was his brother's fault.

*FPS*

Ed is the first person to get sorted and goes to Ravenclaw looking pleased. Four more students are sorted and then McGonagall's calling Harry's name.

*FPS*

_I wondered when you'd be back._

"Real student this time, so you can actually sort me."

_Hmm, the question is to where. An excellent mind, plenty of courage, talent abounds and—oh, a thirst to prove yourself. So where shall we put you?_

"Wherever I'll fit in."

_Yes, your desire to belong is... well, I think, in that case, you'd better be—_

"SLYTHERIN!"

*FPS*

He looks over at the Gryffindor table when he hops off the stool. Neville and Hermione look surprised but not hateful and Hermione even manages a weak smile. He turns and heads for the Slytherin table, nodding his thanks to the people who greet him. When he glances at the teachers table, he catches Snape's eye and although the man's face doesn't change, Harry thinks maybe he approves.

*FPS*

Tyler ends up in Slytherin and Alex goes to Hufflepuff. Ginny Weasley is the last person to get sorted, going to Gryffindor, and then the tables are piled with food and the hall is filled with the noise of chattering voices and cutlery against plates.

*FPS*

"You alright?"

Tyler nods at Harry. He hasn't touched any of the food yet, although he's already downed a goblet of water. Now that Harry can see him properly in the light of the Great Hall, he's glad Alex had mentioned that he was a boy because looking at him, Harry thinks he wouldn't be sure. Tyler's face is very androgynous and his mud-brown hair hangs past his shoulders. He could easily be mistaken for a girl.

"Yeah, just waiting for my stomach to settle. Harry, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, nice to meet you."

"You too. So... pleased about being in Slytherin?"

Harry shrugs. "It's okay, I guess. I've got a couple of friends in Gryffindor though; hopefully they won't mind me being a Slytherin."

"If they do just give 'em a punch, knock some sense into 'em, it usually works for me."

Harry can't tell if he's joking or not.

*FPS*

They're halfway through desert when the events of the year before come up.

"Is it true Harry Potter killed a teacher here last year?" asks a girl called Tabitha Sinclair. Harry almost chokes on his chocolate cake, but he should have known it would come up sooner or later.

"It's bullshit," says sixth year prefect Lisa Patterson. "Quirrell died, but it wasn't Potter. I've done the maths; he's only about twelve and if he was here, we'd have known about it."

"Should he be a student here then, if he's our age?"

"He could have gone to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, but it's possible he's a squib."

That's greeted by mutters that suggest this has been discussed before and some people strongly disagree.

Another first year boy, Orion Devaux, scoffs. "He couldn't have defeated You Know Who if he were a squib," he says haughtily. "No squib would be able to do that."

"Unless he wasn't a squib initially," a third year suggests, "but the curse used on him and whatever it was that kept him alive drained his magic, left him useless. They'd certainly want to keep that quiet, which would explain why no one's seen or heard from him since it happened."

*FPS*

Harry's grateful when the discussion moves on to other things.

*FPS*

"Now that you've eaten I'd like to make a few announcements. Mr Filch would like me to remind you all that magic is not to be used in the corridors, and that the forest is strictly forbidden to all students. I would also like to introduce our newest member of staff, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Gilderoy Lockhart."

The applause for this announcement was thundering. A great deal of people were staring dreamily at Lockhart, who stood up and bowed then waved, smiled and blew kisses at them all. So focused with his adoring fans, he didn't seem to notice that the other half of the students were looking at him with disinterest or disgust. Harry didn't much care for him. He'd flicked through the books and thought they sounded more like fiction stories than instructions on Defence Against the Dark Arts. When Snape had seen him reading one, he looked like he wanted to grab it and burn it.

*FPS*

Lisa Patterson leads the first years down to the Slytherin common room. It's larger and more spaced out than Gryffindor, but darker and less welcoming, Harry thinks, despite the roaring fire. Lisa leads them past the sitting area to the doors to the dorms, gesturing to each as she speaks.

"Girls on my left, boys on my right. Curfew is at nine but you only have to be back in the common room by then—when you actually go to bed is your choice, but it's also your responsibility to get up on time in the morning. You'll get your class timetables at breakfast tomorrow so don't miss it. It's served from seven o'clock; first class is at half-eight. Welcome to Slytherin."

*FPS*

Harry's sharing the dorm with four other boys. As well as Tyler and Orion, there's Stuart Travis, who's tall, with a buzzcut, and hardly speaks, and Cid Villiers, who swears colourfully shortly after introducing himself.

"You guys don't mind if I sleep in the buff, right? I've forgotten my pyjamas."

Harry has no idea what to say to that. He's not sure he does approve, but he's not sure Cid will listen even if he says no.

"_I _mind," Orion says like his is the only opinion that matters. "You may sleep in your underwear."

Cid turns on him, expression incredulously. "'I may'? The fuck do you think you are, my mother?"

Orion sniffs. "I'm sure your mother would wash your mouth out if she could hear you right now."

"Yeah," Cid says, unconcerned, "that good ol' Bubble Mouth Hex. It's not so bad after the first seven or eight times."

*FPS*

"Guys, I need to tell you all something."

Tyler jumps onto his bed, looking at Harry expectantly as he pulls a fluffy white cat on his lap and pets her, Cid doesn't look up from digging through his trunk just in case he missed his pyjamas the first time, Orion settles his gaze on Harry like it's a chore he's gracefully doing and ought to be congratulated for it, and Stuart stops on his way to the door, toiletry bag in hand.

"I'm epileptic. I don't know if you know what that is but it means I have seizures sometimes, but it's nothing serious, I just need to let you know so that if it happens you don't freak out or anything."

"What's a seizure?" Cid asks, still digging through his trunk.

"Isn't that where you fall over and start shaking and stuff?" Tyler says.

"The bad ones, yeah. If that happens you need to get Madam Pomfrey or a professor, but most of the time, it's just little ones and I sort of zone out for a couple of minutes and sometimes my face or my hands will twitch or something. It probably looks weird but like I said, it's—"

He's interrupted by the door opening and Draco Malfoy stalking into the room.

*FPS*

"So, you're the new first years," he says, looking at each of them critically. "You don't look like much." His eyes settle on Tyler and he blinks. "You're in the wrong dorm. Girls are over the other side."

Tyler rolls his eyes, pushing his cat down as she noses at his chin. He's clearly had people saying things like that before. "I can show you my dick if you want."

Orion's lip curls. "You're all disgusting."

"Who are you?" Malfoy asks him.

"Orion Damian Lucas Devaux. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

Cid sniggers. Orion ignores him.

"Draco Malfoy. Are you related to Arianne Devaux?"

Orion nods. "She's my mother's cousin."

Malfoy almost looks impressed. "My father speaks well of her."

*FPS*

"What's your name, shorty? What's wrong with your eye?"

"It's blind. I'm Harry Evans."

"You pureblood?"

"Half."

"Hmph. At least you're not a complete Mudblood. What about you?" he asks Tyler. "What's your name and status?"

"Tyler Lyle and none of your business."

"You can't be _Muggleborn_?" Orion asks as if he genuinely can't believe it's possible. "Not in Slytherin."

Malfoy shoots him an approving glance. Tyler looks annoyed.

"Half."

Malfoy rounds on Cid. "What about you?"

"Cid Villiers. Purer than angel's piss, but I've got nothing against half-bloods," he says with a glance at Harry.

"Stuart Travis, pureblood," Stuart says in a quiet, but not nervous, voice when Malfoy looks at him.

"Excellent," Orion declares, grabbing his toiletry bag from his trunk. "You and I are friends. I'm not hanging around halfies and that vulgar boy anymore than I have to."

Stuart doesn't look concerned that he's just been told they're friends regardless of whether he wants to be, just traipses out the room after Orion and toward the bathroom.

*FPS*

Harry's the first one up the next morning and although it's the first day and he's looking forward to it, he considers going back to sleep, tired despite a decent night's sleep. He showers, dresses, debates taking his bag but decides against it as he doesn't yet know what books he'll need for the day, and makes sure the lock's secure on his trunk. It's not so much that he doesn't trust his roommates not to steal his things—well, he thinks, he until he knows them better, he won't trust them, but that's just common sense—but he doesn't want them finding out he still has a teddy bear and his baby blanket. He's kept them and his figurines inside his backpack—he'd bought a messenger bag to use for school—and keeps it tucked at the bottom of his trunk but he'd never live it down if anyone found out.

*FPS*

He's not the first one in the common room. There's a first year girl there, dark hair that hangs halfway down her back and a bag slung over one shoulder. She turns when she hears him come through and looks disappointed to see him. He smiles a greeting that she returns before looking away again. He heads for the entrance and is halfway out when she speaks.

"Are you going to the Great Hall?"

"I need to go to the Hospital Wing first, but afterwards I will be."

*FPS*

He'd been annoyed when Snape said he'd have to go to the Hospital Wing every morning for his anti-convulsion potion, but apparently school rules said Madam Pomfrey handled all the medicinal potions for first and second years.

*FPS*

"Really? I need to go there too. Do you know the way?"

"Yeah. You can come with me if you want."

She hesitates, glancing towards the door to the girls' dorms, but then picks up her bag and follows him out.

"I'm Jia Liao. My sister was supposed to show me, but she always oversleeps and I'd hate to have to miss breakfast, so thank you for showing me."

"It's no problem. I'm Harry Evans."

"How do you know the way? You are a first year, aren't you?"

He nods. "I spent some time in the castle last year though. I know the layout pretty well."

"Do you mind if I stay with you then? My sister said it's really easy to get lost and from what I saw yesterday, she's probably right."

"Sure. I don't mind."

*FPS*

They discuss classes as they walk. Jia's looking forward to studying Potions and Herbology. She's already decided that she wants to be a master potioneer when she grows up.

"What about you? What do you want to be when you're older?"

*FPS*

Writer. Historian. Adventurer. Auror. Teacher. Minster for Magic. Assassin. Healer. Office worker. Charms expert. Animal breeder. Inventor. Book store owner. Husband. Parent. Home owner. Old man. Alive.

*FPS*

Harry shrugs. "Never really thought about it."

*FPS*

Jia doesn't ask what his potion is for. He follows her lead and doesn't ask about hers.

*FPS*

When they get to the Great Hall, about half the students are already there. They head over to the Slytherin table and sit with the other first years girls—Tazmine Davids, Toni Kaidkin, and Victoria Vaisey. The rest of the boys haven't arrived yet, but they turn up just as Snape's handing out their timetables.

*FPS*

They have Transfiguration, Herbology, and History of Magic that day. Harry earns Slytherin five house points by answering several of Professor Sprout's questions in Herbology and another twenty when he's the only person to completely transform a matchstick into a needle during Transfiguration. It makes up for History of Magic still being the dullest class in existence.

*FPS*

Sprout's only homework for them is a bit of reading, but McGonagall sets them a short essay. Harry sits in the common room working on it with Jia then excuses himself to the dorm with the intention of reading the Herbology text before going to bed, but Cid snatches the book away, telling him they've got plenty of time to study and dragging him over to Tyler's bed to spend the rest of the evening talking.

*FPS*

"So which of your parents is the Muggle?" Cid asks them both. Harry tells them his mother is Muggleborn, but Tyler confesses, "I'm actually only a half-blood by adoption."

Cid shrugs. Harry's confused. "What do you mean?"

"It means his birth parents are Muggle," Cid explains, "but his adopted ones are magical."

"Just an adopted dad—Marcus. You don't know about magical adoption, do you?" Tyler says to Harry, who's still looking confused. "Magical adoptions include a blood ritual so the child actually becomes genetically connected to their adopted parents. It makes them a completely legitimate heir, even if the parents have other, non-adopted children. It even affects appearances. I had a smaller nose and bigger ears before I was adopted by Marcus, and my eyes were more green than blue."

"Oh, that's... impressive."

Tyler nods. "I'll say. But for people like me it means I pass as a half-blood even though my parents—or my mother at least; I've never met my birth father—was Muggle, although for the real blood purists I'm still lower on the social ladder, and there's some that don't believe adoption rituals counteract Muggle blood. I'd prefer people like Devaux and Malfoy think I've got one magical birth parent, though."

As they don't care either way about his blood status, Cid and Harry both agree to keep it quiet.

*FPS*

Gilderoy Lockhart is a pompous arse. Harry doesn't like him. He's full of himself and he can't teach worth a damn, just talks about himself all the time. After three lessons, Harry actually thinks having a Voldemort-possessed-Quirrell for a teacher is better.

*FPS*

On Saturday morning, Harry gets a small parcel delivered to him at breakfast containing his medical bracelet. Before he can slip it on, a hand reaches over his shoulder and snatches it up.

"You wear jewellery? Merlin, I swear half you first years are girls pretending to be boys."

Before Harry can respond to Malfoy's sneering comment, Jia, sat next to him, whirls in her seat and snatches the bracelet back. "There's nothing wrong with boys wanting to be girls, and even if there was, boys can wear jewellery too."

She hands the bracelet back to Harry, who slips it on his wrist with a murmured thanks.

"Whatever," Malfoy mutters. "You should at least buy something _decent_ instead of that tacky thing. It doesn't even go with those ugly cuffs you wear."

"This tacky thing could save my life, so I'm sticking with it."

*FPS*

He hears the voice that evening, while he's in the bath.

"_Come_ ... _come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you... Let me kill you..._"

He jumps, splashing water over the sides of the tub. "Who's there?"

There's no answer and he hadn't heard the door to the bathroom open or close. He reaches for the edge of the curtain, pulling it aside just enough to peer around, but there's no one else there. He lets it fall straight again, frowning. He doesn't hear anything more and by the time he gets out and starts drying off, he convinces himself he'd just been hearing things.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Are we still friends or are we not allowed because I'm a Slytherin now?"

Hermione and Neville look up as he drops into the spare chair at their table in the library on Sunday. It's the first time he's had a chance to really speak to them since term started.

Hermione looks offended. "Of course we're still friends."

"As long as you don't start turning into Malfoy."

"Neville!"

But Harry smiles, relaxing. "You don't have to worry about that. He's a prick."

"What's it like living in the house of snakes?"

Harry shrugs. "Not so bad. Like I said, Malfoy's a prick, and there's a boy in my dorm, Orion Devaux, he's a pompous idiot, but Tyler and Cid are cool and Jia's nice."

"How are you finding classes and casting without Wish Magic?" Hermione asks him.

"It's alright. I still want it back, but I'm not having trouble with wand magic. To be honest classes are kind of boring. I know all the theory already and I'm picking up most of the spells fairly easily. I want to take second year classes."

*FPS*

"What do you think of Lockhart?" Harry asks them.

Neville groans. "He's _awful_."

"He is not," Hermione defends.

"He is. Our first class," Neville tells Harry, "he brought in a cage of Cornish Pixes and released them into the classroom and then he left _us _to clear them up. He couldn't control them at all."

Hermione's frowning. "You make it sound like he's completely useless."

"He _is _completely useless. Hermione, those pixies hung me from the chandelier. You were the only one that could do anything about them. We'd all be better of with you as a teacher."

*FPS*

"Don't you ever take notes?"

Harry looks around at Jia then at the bit of parchment in front of him. It was covered with doodles and the occasional key phrase from Sprout's lecture, whereas Jia's parchment was thick with notes as she tried to copy down every word Sprout said.

"Not really. I'm pretty good at remembering stuff." He'd had to be when he taught himself. It was far too much hassle to steal and keep track of notebooks and pens so he'd learnt to absorb and memorise as much information as he could simply from reading and listening.

"Well don't come running to me when you need to borrow notes to study for the end of year exams."

*FPS*

The second week of term brings the news that the Slytherins would be having their first flying lesson and they'd be sharing it with the Hufflepuffs. For most of them, this was good news. Everyone was looking forward to flying lessons—except for Tyler.

"I don't fly. I'm not getting on a broom."

"It's not that terrible," Cid tries to convince him. "Surely you can't get sick from hovering a few feet off the ground. It's not like Madam Hooch will let us fly fast or anything, not on our first lesson."

"I get sick riding a bicycle."

"I think you're just bitching because we're having it with the Hufflepuffs."

Tyler's responding scowl said Cid wasn't entirely wrong. Since the second day of classes, Alex Stone, whom Tyler had been best friends with since they were six, had been ignoring him. Apparently Tyler being a Slytherin and Alex a Hufflepuff meant they couldn't hang out anymore.

*FPS*

Tyler needn't have worried about flying class. Madam Hooch spends so much of the class telling others to stop flying so high that she hardly pays attention to the fact that Tyler barely leaves the ground. Harry's amongst those who're regularly scolded; Hooch even points out that he's under flying restrictions as it is. But as he's survived a fall of twenty feet (even if it wasn't completely unharmed) he's not satisfied with having to stay under ten feet.

*FPS*

"Harry. _Harry._"

Fingers jab his ribs and he jerks up, blinking stupidly as he looks at Jia, who jerks her head sideways and Harry turns to look forwards.

"Is my class that boring, Mr Evans?" asks McGonagall, and Harry flushes.

"Sorry, professor."

"Five points from Slytherin. Sleep in your dormitory, Mr Evans, not my classroom."

*FPS*

"Are you okay?"

Harry glances up from his lunch, which he's hardly touched. Jia's watching him from across the table, looking worried.

"Yeah. Just tired."

"You're tired a lot. Is it because of your epilepsy?"

Harry shakes his head. It's the middle of October and Jia's right that he is tired a lot. He's not sure why; he's getting plenty of sleep and it's not like he's doing anything strenuous to drain his energy.

"It might be my potion," he suggests when she continues to look worried. "I think tiredness might have been one of the side effects. I'll ask Madam Pomfrey about it."

*FPS*

He doesn't go to Pomfrey, but he does visit Snape's office that evening, knowing he's read up on the potion. He asks if it might be causing his tiredness and Snape agrees it's possible, but doesn't look convinced.

"I would have expected you to have shown side-effects before now, but I'll contact Healer Karpel. In the mean time, try and get plenty of sleep," he says, and his tone and expression let Harry know that McGonagall's told him about Harry's little nap earlier.

*FPS*

The upper years have a Hogsmeade weekend on Hallowe'en. Harry and the other first years take advantage of the mostly empty common room to play games and listen to the second years' rendition of the troll from the year before. Harry has to bite his tongue as he listens to Malfoy talk about how the troll had very nearly clubbed him to death and he'd only survived by the skin of his teeth using some quick spellwork.

*FPS*

The Hallowe'en feast, Harry decides, is much more enjoyable when he can sit at a table and enjoy it and when it's not interrupted by trolls in the castle. After, when they about to head back down to the dungeons, they stop when there's a commotion from the second floor and someone's voice calls, "Mrs Norris has been killed!"

*FPS*

When they reach the second floor, there's already a mass of students blocking the corridor. As the smallest, Harry pushes through the crowd, wriggling through gaps between people until he reaches the front. In the middle of the corridor, between Harry's crowd and another group at the other side, are Hermione and Neville, both looking anxious. Pinned to the wall is Mrs Norris and underneath her, painted in foot high letters, are the words:

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED_

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE_

*FPS*

Draco Malfoy pushes forwards, elbowing Harry aside and grinning broadly as he fixes his gaze on Hermione. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

*FPS*

Before Harry gets a chance to ask Hermione or Neville what happened, the crowd behind him parts to let Filch through. Silence falls as everyone watches him reach the centre, notice his cat, and then advance on Neville and Hermione with eyes full of rage.

"Argus!"

Professor Dumbledore slips through the crowd, closely followed by several other professors. He approaches the three people between the two crowds, takes in the situation, unpins Mrs Norris then dismisses the rest of the students and beckons Mr Filch and the two Gryffindors to follow him. Harry hesitates, looking after Neville and Hermione and damning Dumbledore. If he had his Wish Magic, he'd turn himself invisible and follow them, but he's forced to turn away and head back to Slytherin with the rest of the students.

*FPS*

"What's the Chamber of Secrets?" Tyler asks when Harry tells him and Cid about what'd happened. They're sat in the dorm and Harry's digging through his trunk for his copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. When he finds it, he flicks through it until he finds the passage about the Chamber of Secrets.

"'The Chamber of Secrets'," he reads, "'is a legendary chamber hidden somewhere within Hogwarts and is said to be the home of a terrible monster, left behind by the founder Salazar Slytherin. It is said that when Slytherin's one true heir returns to Hogwarts, he will open the chamber and purge the school of all those with impure blood.'"

"Impure... so people like me."

Cid shakes his head. "No one but us knows about you; you're probably alright."

"'Probably alright'," Tyler repeats as his cat, Aurora, jumps up on his lap. "That's not comforting. Is there seriously a monster going around attacking people? What kind of monster anyway? That's a bit vague."

"It doesn't say," Harry answers, closing the book. "But it's probably not real. It's just a legend. If there was a monster under the school, someone would have found it some time in the last thousand years."

"So what happened to Mrs Norris?"

"Student prank," Cid answers airily. "It's not like there's anyone who likes Filch or that fucking cat."

Tyler doesn't look convinced.

*FPS*

Harry leaves the Great Hall at breakfast the next day at the same time Hermione and Neville do and the three of them slip into an empty classroom so the two Gryffindors can tell Harry about what happened the night before. They'd gone to Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party and found Mrs Norris on their way back to Gryffindor afterwards. Dumbledore had declared Mrs Norris only petrified, not dead, and would be cured just as soon as Professor Sprout's Mandrakes had matured enough to be used in a potion.

*FPS*

"I'm going to the library to research this Chamber of Secrets thing," Hermione tells them. "I'm sure I've read about it somewhere before but I can't remember where."

"It's in _Hogwarts: A History_," Harry mentions, following her out of the room. "But there's not much in there on it. It only briefly mentions the chamber and doesn't give anything useful."

"I'll have to borrow a copy from the library; I left mine at home so I could fit all Lockhart's books in my trunk."

Behind her, Neville rolls his eyes and Harry suppresses a smile. He'd had a similar problem, but Snape had been kind enough to shrink his Lockhart books down to the size of a postage stamp, muttering a comment about how they ought to stay that way.

*FPS*

"Who do you think it is?"

"Who do I think is what?"

"The heir of Slytherin."

Harry lifts his head from his arms to look at Hermione, who's brow is furrowed thoughtfully. It's just the two of them left in the library. Neville had gone back to Gryffindor almost two hours ago, declaring he'd spent enough time around books to last him the rest of the term. Harry had stayed. He got plenty of time to hang out with his Slytherin friends; the library was the only place he could hang out with Hermione and Neville.

"You think it's real? You really believe Slytherin's heir is at Hogwarts and attacking students?"

"Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs Norris, which makes me think whoever attacked her might not be... well, human."

"Are you worried?"

She looks surprised at the question. "Worried?"

"That you might... y'know."

"Oh," she says, blinking. "No, I hadn't actually thought of that. I've been so focused on the legend I forgot that I'm one of the 'impure'."

*FPS*

"If it is real, then whoever it is is probably a first or seventh year," Harry says, resting his head on his arms again and closing his eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because this is the first time it's happened, which means either they've only just got to the school—a first year—or they're not worried about the consequences of being caught anymore because they'll be leaving soon—a seventh year."

"Unless they've only just found the Chamber themselves."

"Possible, but it seems like the kind of thing that'd be passed along the family really, you know from father to son and that sort of thing."

"Do you think..."

"Do I think what?"

"Did you hear what Malfoy said last night?"

"The 'You'll be next, Mudbloods'? Yeah, I heard. I should have kicked him for it."

"Do you think he could be the heir?"

"_Malfoy?_" he asks incredulously, lifting his head, then pauses. "Mind you... he was looking pretty smug this morning, and he's always boasting about how his family's been in Slytherin for generations. I guess it's possible."

"You could keep an eye on him," she suggests. "And everyone else in Slytherin, see who looks suspicious."

"Everyone in Slytherin's suspicious. I doubt the heir's going to start boasting about it, even down there. We like our secrets too much."

*FPS*

The next weekend holds the first Quidditch match of the year, between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It takes all of five minutes for Harry to decide he much prefers standing in the crowd and cheering on Slytherin with the rest of his house than standing on the sidelines or hovering over the spectators, unsure of who he wants to cheer for.

Gryffindor win by over two hundred points. Nick Coleman, the Gryffindor Seeker, has clearly been practising; his flying has improved a lot since last year, Harry thinks, and it's made their already great team even better.

*FPS*

"We wouldn't have lost if _I'd_ been playing," he overhears Malfoy proclaim to Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson on the way back to the castle.

"Why didn't you try out for the team?" Pansy asks him, hanging onto his every word like he's spewing gold.

"I wanted to but Father wants me to focus on my studies. I'll join next year, though. When I'm on the team, Slytherin won't lose a single match."

*FPS*

That night, Colin Creevey is petrified as he's sneaking down to the kitchens for a midnight snack. By Monday, the entire school's heard about it and the fear that'd been only mild when Mrs Norris was attacked is now schoolwide. There's all sorts of rumours and suspicions about who the culprit is, including some suggestions that leave Harry's head boggling.

"Tara Williams?" he repeats incredulously to Ed Coleman in their Ravenclaw-Slytherin Herbology class. "The Head Girl? She's a Hufflepuff!"

Ed shrugs. "Nick reckons that makes her a prime suspect. Everyone's going to think it's a Slytherin student while the heir's sat in one of the other common rooms, laughing at the panic and pretending they're perfectly innocent."

Harry thinks that's unlikely, not if the heir is anything like Malfoy or the other purebloods who are so proud of being in Slytherin and make snide comments about how they'd have died on the spot if they got sorted into Hufflepuff.

*FPS*

When Harry falls asleep in Potions class halfway through November, Snape sends him up to the Hospital Wing with a note asking Pomfrey to do a full physical exam. His persistent tiredness shouldn't be caused by his anti-convulsion potion, but Pomfrey doesn't find anything wrong with him. She does let him stay and sleep in one of the beds for the rest of the afternoon though.

*FPS*

Harry's pretty sure Hermione and Neville are up to something. They're acting very secretive and make excuses not to hang out with him on Sundays, as they usually do. He might be bothered by it if he weren't so tired.

*FPS*

Harry gets a letter at the start of December from Kirith Karpel that says his MRI and prolonged EEG are booked for the twenty-ninth; the MRI being in the morning and the EEG starting afterwards and continuing for as long as necessary. She suggests that Harry stop taking the anti-convulsion potion for the run up; it hasn't helped at all anyway and after the EEG Kirith is going to try him on a different one. Harry can hardly find the energy to be pleased about it, but he's glad the holidays are finally in view. He's looking forward to being able to sleep without having to worry about getting up in the morning for classes. He's hoping that the two week break will give him a chance to recuperate and get enough rest to appease his body.

*FPS*

Harry's quite interested in the idea of a duelling club and he turns up on the evening of the last Thursday before the holidays feeling excited despite his tiredness. His excitement vanishes, however, when Gilderoy Lockhart walks onto the stage. His attitude towards the Defence professor hasn't improved and he's thinking of leaving and just going to bed, but stops when Lockhart introduces Snape as his assistant. The idea of Snape fighting Lockhart is too good to pass up.

*FPS*

He cheers with several other Slytherins when Snape blasts Lockhart off his feet with a Disarming Spell. When they get paired up to practice it, Harry is put with Jia, but neither of them manage it very well. Harry manages to make her wand jiggle a little in her grip, but it doesn't jump out of her hand nor knock her off her feet, and her attempt at the spell does nothing at all.

They're one of the few couples who actually attempt the Disarming Spell as ordered. Most people took the opportunity to instead throw all manner of hexes and curses at the other students. When Lockhart calls for them to stop and everyone's been cured of whatever malady's befallen them, he looks around and says, "I think I better teach you how to _block_ unfriendly spells. How about a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley."

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape counters with a sneer. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We'll be sending Finch-Fletchley to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest Malfoy and Weasley instead?"

Harry frowns as he hears the rest of the Slytherins snigger, noticing Neville going red and Hermione glaring angrily at Snape.

*FPS*

Ron and Malfoy get up on stage and face each other. Lockhart demonstrates a Blocking Spell—or at least attempts to—then the boys get ready to duel. Lockhart counts down from three, but Malfoy is over-eager. On two he twirls his wand and shouts, "_Serpensortia!_" and a long, back snake shoots out the end.

Several people scream. Ron squeaks like a frightened mouse and staggers back away from the snake. The snake, apparently unhappy about being thrust out the end of a wand half its size, hisses and rears up, turning to the person nearest—a terrified Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"_Stop!_"

*FPS*

He doesn't even think about. He's not even sure what made him do it, just that he'd seen the snake going for Justin and automatically ordered it not to despite knowing his Wish Magic wouldn't work. But the snake does stop and he's not sure who's more surprised—him or the rest of the students, who are now all staring at him. It takes a moment for him to realise that they're not looking with expressions of impressiveness or, as he'd expect from Justin, gratitude, but instead expressions of fear and suspicion.

*FPS*

Snape steps forward and vanishes the snake with a wave of his wand. Harry isn't sure what to make of his expression. When he's vanished the snake, he steps off the stage and stalks over to Harry, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"My office. Now."

As he walks Harry out the hall, the rest of the students part out of the way like they're afraid they'll catch something if they get too close to him. When Harry looks around and catches Hermione's eyes, she looks almost afraid.

*FPS*

"Are you aware you're a Parselmouth?"

Harry sits in a chair across from Snape, facing his desk. "Um... no? I mean, I'm not. I don't think."

"Then would you care to explain what just happened in the Great Hall?"

"With the snake? I just told it to stop. I guess Dumbledore's cuffs aren't working properly anymore."

"The snake did not stop because of your Wish Magic; it stopped because you spoke to it in Parseltongue."

Suddenly the fear and suspicion make sense. He and Hermione had read about Parseltongue while searching for information about the Chamber of Secrets and Salazar Slytherin. It was a famous skill of his, the reason Slytherin's house symbol was a snake, and widely considered a trait of dark wizards. Now Harry had just revealed to the entire school that he could speak it right when Slytherin's heir was terrorising the school.

*FPS*

He's greeted by silence when he gets back to Slytherin, but it doesn't last long. Malfoy gets up from his chair, stalking forwards to stand in front of Harry.

"You're _not_ the heir of Slytherin," he says furiously.

"No, I'm not."

"Good. I'm glad that's clear because the heir of Slytherin, whoever he is, is a respectful pureblood wizard, not some half blind half-blood who befriends Mudbloods and blood traitors."

He doesn't say anything about Malfoy calling Hermione a Mudblood or even care that Malfoy's insulting him; he's grateful that someone thinks he's innocent, for whatever reason it may be.

*FPS*

Tyler's the only one in the dorm when Harry gets there. Harry pauses in the doorway.

"I'm not the heir of Slytherin," he blurts.

"Excuse me if I don't believe _that_."

*FPS*

Harry's even more glad it's the last day of term as he trudges from the Great Hall to Charms class after lunch, alone because Cid's siding with Tyler, and Jia's just plain ignoring him. Malfoy and a few of the other Slytherins are the only ones who aren't convinced he's the heir. Even Hermione and Neville don't believe him when he tries to talk to them at lunch.

*FPS*

He hears the voice again during class, the hissing one talking about killing. He drops his quill and jerks his head up, looking around, but the class is silent, everyone bent over bits of parchment as they answer the questions on the board. Harry picks up his quill again, ignoring the weird look Cid gives him. He's starting to wonder if he's going mad.

*FPS*

The seizure happens ten minutes before the end of Charms and it's the first tonic clonic one he's had since February, when he taught himself to Apparate. Flitwick sends Jia to fetch Madam Pomfrey, but just around the corner from the classroom she finds Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick petrified.

*FPS*

Justin and Nearly Headless Nick being petrified keeps Madam Pomfrey and the other teachers distracted for so long that it's almost dinner before Madam Pomfrey realises Harry hasn't woken up since his seizure. He'd been brought into the Hospital Wing and laid on a bed then left alone as the petrified victims were dealt with. When she tries waking him up for dinner, he doesn't respond and when he won't even react to _enervate_ she realises there's something seriously wrong.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

When Madam Pomfrey can't figure out what's wrong with Harry, she calls in Kirith Karpel, who spend an hour intently examining Harry.

*FPS*

"Well?" Snape demands as soon as she straightens up.

"It's not related to his epilepsy. I've checked for dark magic, but all he has on him is residual... sparks, so to speak... around his scar. Surprising given how long it's been, but considering the uniqueness of it—"

"Is it what's affecting him?"

"No. Dark magic isn't what's doing this."

"Then what is?"

"Severus, calm yourself," Dumbledore says quietly, which doesn't help.

"That boy is _dying_ and none of you can figure out what's wrong with him," Snape snarls. "Don't tell me to calm down, Albus."

*FPS*

It's three days since Harry's seizure. He's completely comatose, his heart rate is dropping by the day, and twice he stops breathing and needs resuscitating.

*FPS*

"If you'd let me speak," Kirith says sharply, "I have a theory but I need to call a colleague to do an exam, so if you'll excuse me..."

"We will find out what's wrong with him, Severus," Dumbledore says when she's disappeared into Pomfrey's office. "He will not die."

*FPS*

Healer Hopkins is a tall, broad man who looks like he should be playing rugby rather than healing people, but it takes him less than fifteen minutes to finish his examination.

"These cuffs, am I right in thinking they're magic suppressants?"

"You are," Dumbledore answers.

"They're killing him," Hopkins says bluntly. "Whoever put them on needs to take them off now."

Snape whirls on Dumbledore, face furious. Dumbledore pretends not to notice and draws his wand, stepping up to the bed and tapping his wand to the cuffs, one after the other.

*FPS*

Every window, water jug, and glass in the Hospital Wing smashes, filling the room with the roaring sound of breaking glass. Only when the noise has settled and there's wind and snow blowing through the open windows do they realise there's swarm of butterflies fluttering about overhead and every piece of furniture in the room is hovering inches off the floor.

*FPS*

"What on earth...?"

"This is Harry's doing, I believe," Dumbledore answers Madam Pomfrey, waving his wand to repair the windows. Pomfrey gets a hold of herself and hurries over to check the petrified victims, making sure they hadn't been hurt by any of the flying glass. Nearly Headless Nick is unfortunately stuck in a bed, not being able to move with it, and when Pomfrey tries pushing it down, it resists and she's forced to leave the poor ghost trapped.

*FPS*

"His magical core is exposed," Hopkins explains, "and his magic is pouring out of him. I imagine he's got instinctive control over it, abilities way beyond someone of his age even without training, but probably a lot of emotional outbursts? Well when you put those cuffs on," he continues when Dumbledore and Snape nod, "it didn't close his core, it just restricted his access to it. Think of his magic as a river. The cuffs were a dam that reduced it to a stream, but his core—the spring, if you will—was pushing out more magic than he was using. When it couldn't properly release itself, it built up and the pressure of it was too much for his body to handle, so it started shutting down. This," he says, gesturing to the floating beds and the butterflies, "is his magic finally releasing itself. It might be little while before it settles down again."

*FPS*

When Hopkins and Kirith have left and Pomfrey's gone to her office, Snape turns on Dumbledore, eyes furious, and he cuts off the headmaster's apology to snarl, "When he wakes up, _you_ can tell him who's responsible for his nearly dying."

*FPS*

Dumbledore knows he deserves the dirty looks Snape and McGonagall keep giving him, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant. It was never a good thing when they agreed on something against him.

*FPS*

An entire day passes before the butterflies disappear and the beds settle down, and another day before Harry finally wakes up. Pomfrey checks him over and gives him some water then informs Dumbledore and Snape.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't think he's a bad person. A bad person would hurt Dumbledore for almost killing him. A bad person would make Dumbledore almost die as well. A bad person would... well, do bad things.

Turning Dumbledore into a slug, Harry tells himself, isn't a bad thing. Really it's not, as long as he intends to turn Dumbledore back. Which he does. And it's not bad to pour a circle of salt around Dumbledore The Slug either. Dumbledore is intelligent, after all. He would know not to touch the salt, even as a slug. And if Harry spend half a minute with the salt pot held precariously over the slug, that still doesn't make him a bad person, because he didn't actually pour any of the salt on him.

*FPS*

Madam Pomfrey keeps him in for another day and he spends it exercising his magic, conjuring things, turning himself invisible, transfiguring anything within his reach. He can keep his scar hidden without having to rely on the Concealing Charm either, which he's looking forward to. It feels good to have his Wish Magic back.

*FPS*

He turns Dumbledore back after half a day, not smirking at the slime on the headmaster's robe nor giving him chance to speak and scold Harry for his actions.

"Unless you, as Hogwarts Headmaster, need to speak to me as a Hogwarts student, then stay the hell away from me," he warns, and is glad to see Dumbledore's expression perfectly serious.

"I will not interfere with you again, Harry," Dumbledore promises him solemnly, "but rest assured that if you use your magic against people as you did against me, I will have you expelled and, if necessary, arrested."

"I'll only use it on people who deserve it. If someone hurts me, or tries to do something like you did, I will defend myself."

Dumbledore considers him for a moment and then nods. "I am sorry, Harry, for causing you such harm."

*FPS*

He's released after lunch on Christmas Eve and Hermione and Neville greets him outside the Hospital Wing. Hermione hugs him and smiles widely.

"I'm so glad you're alright. No one would tell us what was wrong with you. They just said there were some complications after your last seizure."

"It was Dumbledore's cuffs. My body couldn't handle having my magic suppressed. I'm surprised you're here though."

Hermione bites her lip and wrings her hands and Neville looks guilty.

"We're sorry," he says. "We should have believed you when you said you weren't the heir."

"What made you change your minds?"

"Don't you know?" Hermione asks, surprised. "Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were petrified."

"I know, but why would that convince you?"

"It happened while you were in class. Flitwick and your whole class are witnesses that you were there when it happened, and they say you had your seizure right before they were found. It couldn't have been you."

"There are still some who think it's you," Neville tells him, "but most people know it isn't."

*FPS*

He's the only first year Slytherin who stayed behind for the holidays so he gets the dorm to himself. Shortly after he gets there Malfoy barges in without knocking, looking him over critically.

"I heard you died, Evans."

"You wish, Malfoy."

"What was wrong with you?"

"Complications from my seizure. Can you get out of my way? I haven't washed in nearly a week and I'd really like a shower."

*FPS*

He wakes up the next morning to find a small pile of gifts at the end of his bed. He gets a luxury eagle-feather quill from Hermione and an accompanying jar of colour-changing ink from Neville, an extra large box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans from Tyler, a fancy notebook from Jia who still thought he should make more notes in classes, and from Cid he gets a rubber duck that quacks rude words when the water gets too cold. He assumes that the gifts from his friends mean they're not among those who still think he's the heir of Slytherin.

*FPS*

His last present is light and squishy and comes with a note that reads:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. I hope you will find some use for it regardless of your power. – A. Dumbledore._

If it weren't for the first few words, he would toss it aside unopened, but he doesn't care that it comes from Dumbledore when what's inside used to be his father's. He doesn't even care that he can turn invisible without the use of an Invisibility Cloak. It could be a dirty sock for all he cares; the fact that he now owns something that used to belong to his dad is more important than anything else.

*FPS*

At Christmas dinner he sits with Logan Sparrow, a third year who's also the only one in his year to stay for the holidays. They only make small talk, mostly just using each other so they're not sat alone. It's better than sitting with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

*FPS*

Harry can't help laughing when Neville tells him about Hermione accidentally giving herself cat ears and a tail when they brewed a Polyjuice Potion in an attempt to sneak in to Slytherin to find out if Draco Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin.

"Why didn't you ask me for help?" he asks between giggles. "I could have snuck you in _and _told you Malfoy's not the heir. He might wish he is but he's not."

"You were still in cuffs when we decided to do it."

"You could have at least told me about it. I can't believe you brewed a Polyjuice Potion in a bathroom and didn't include me. Is Pomfrey letting Hermione have visitors?"

"She let me in, but Hermione'll hex you if you go there and start laughing at her."

Harry sniggers. "Probably best if I don't visit then."

*FPS*

On the morning of the twenty-ninth, Snape accompanies Harry as they floo from the Hospital Wing to Saint Mungo's. Harry's got his backpack with pyjamas and a change of clothes in it, plus Kiwi, a couple of books, and his seizure diary. Kirith greets them and Snape leaves Harry with her to get taken to the room where he'll stay for the duration of the test.

*FPS*

The MRI is done by giving him a sour tasting potion to drink and casting another complex spell on his head before he lies on a flat bed that's pushed into a tube in which several magical crystals spin at high speed around him, generating a magnetic field, while more crystals generate the radio waves that, Kirith tells him, bounce off parts of his brain and back to the crystal so that when they're put together the information can be withdrawn and projected onto special type of parchment in the form of an image. Harry doesn't entirely understand how it works, but he figures he doesn't really need to.

*FPS*

He's only in there for two nights and it's boring and anti-climatic. He'd expected it to make Kirith come to some defining conclusion that would make her definite about what potion Harry needed to take and make it possible for him to get a new eye. Instead Kirith says is that it confirms the diagnosis of epilepsy, that she wants Harry to continue with the original anti-convulsion potion because she's spoken to Healer Hopkins and agreed that it's likely his suppressed magic was interfering with the potion, and that it would be too risky to give Harry a magical eye at this point in time, but it may be possible in a few years. Harry's not happy.

*FPS*

In the first Charms class after Christmas, Harry realises that with his Wish Magic back, his spells are amplified. He'd been so glad to have his Wish Magic back that he hadn't touched his wand in the holidays so hadn't realised before. They're supposed to be learning how to control magical fires like they use in Potions, learning now to change the temperature of the flames by single degrees, but Harry almost sets the entire classroom alight when he conjures his flame. The desk he and Jia are working at is turned to ashes in the time it takes them to scramble away and for Flitwick to put it out. Their robes are burnt and Jia's hair is singed, which puts her in a terrible mood and she refuses to talk to him for the rest of the day.

*FPS*

Half the school still thinks he's the heir of Slytherin, but all of Slytherin and most of the first years believe he's not so he doesn't really mind the rest of them.

*FPS*

That evening he practices casting in the Room of Requirement, where he thinks it's probably safe for him to accidentally blow things up. All the spells he casts are twice as powerful as before; transfiguration is fine because it just means he's left with perfectly transformed objects, but levitation charms send tables rocketing towards the ceiling and the Lumos spell is so bright he almost blinds himself and is still seeing white spots three hours later.

*FPS*

"Harry, can I ask you a favour?"

"What is it?"

"You know my friend Alex? He's struggling with spell work and you're really good, so I was wondering if you could maybe tutor him a little?"

Harry looks up from his book and frowns at Tyler. "You two made up?"

"Yeah, turns out the other Hufflepuffs convinced him that all Slytherins were slimy good-for-nothing snakes, but he's been pretty miserable all year and we made up over the holidays. The only thing is now the other 'puffs are treating him like dirt for being friends with a Slytherin, so he's still pretty miserable and he's not doing that well in classes, which doesn't help. I'm thinking of trying out that Bubble Mouth Hex Cid mentioned, teach the other 'puffs a lesson in manners. Anyway, do you think you could tutor him a bit? I'm not really a great teacher."

"I'm not sure that's a great idea right now," Harry says apologetically. "My spells are a bit... unpredictable at the minute. I'm not sure I should be teaching anyone until I can control my own magic. Why not ask Ed Coleman in Ravenclaw? He's pretty good."

"Yeah, alright, thanks anyway."

*FPS*

He finds the diary a week before February. He's on his way back down to Slytherin after practising in the Room of Requirement—he's getting better at not overdoing his spells now; he's discovered it's a case of working his Wish Magic with his wand magic to keep things under control—and passes through the corridor where Mrs Norris had been attacked. The words are still written on the wall, despite Mr Filch's best efforts to scrub them off, and the floor is covered with water that's pouring out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

*FPS*

Harry has mixed feelings about Moaning Myrtle. On the one hand, he feels bad for her because she's obviously lonely and miserable, which he can empathise with, but on the other hand she's _annoyingly_ miserable.

*FPS*

He checks there's no on else around before pushing open the door to the bathroom, entertaining a vague notion of trying to comfort the ghost, but Moaning Myrtle appears to be stuffed in her usual toilet, crying in great wailing sobs. Harry decides there's no point trying to comfort her, but he notices a little book on the floor under a sink and goes over, picking it up and shaking off the worst of the water, then leaves again. It's a diary from fifty years ago, with a shabby black cover and the name of a newsagents on Vauxhall Road, London, printed on the back. It's blank, save for a faded name written on the first page—T. M. Riddle.

*FPS*

He scribbles out Riddle's name and writes his own underneath it. He might not be poor and homeless anymore, but he's still in the habit of taking what he finds if it's useful for him. To him, 'finders keepers' was a perfectly valid life motto and it's clear Riddle, whoever he is, hadn't been interested in writing in the diary—aside from his name, the entire thing is completely blank. But just as he goes to close it, he notices the ink soaking into the page, his name and the scribble over Riddle's fading away. He frowns, turning the page, but it hasn't soaked through, it's just gone. And then, seconds later, new words appear.

_Hello, Harry. I'm Tom Riddle. Might I ask how you came across my diary?_

*FPS*

The words shine wetly on the page for a moment before fading away just like his name. Not knowing what else to do, Harry writes back.

'I found it in a flooded bathroom.'

_It's good I preserved my memories in a more lasting way than ink._

'What do you mean?'

_My diary holds memories, memories of things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

'That's where I am now. What sort of things? Is it'

He hesitates, but figures there's no harm in telling a book about it.

'Is it about the Chamber of Secrets?'

_You know about that? Has it been opened again?_

'You mean it's been opened before?'

_Yes, once when I was at school. Several people were attacked and one student was killed. It was a terrible time. But tell me of yourself, Harry. How old are you? What house are you in?_

'I'm 12, in Slytherin. Do you know who opened the Chamber last time?'

_Would you help them? The heir of your house's founder?_

'NO. One of my best friends is Muggleborn and so was my mum. Just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean I hate Muggleborns.'

_I apologise_, Riddle writes quickly. _I did not mean to offend, merely discover the kind of person you are._

*FPS*

He closes the book without replying. He sticks it in his bedside cabinet and tells himself he won't write in it again, but something about it calls to him and merely two days later he's on his bed, curtains drawn as he writes.

*FPS*

'Do you mind if I rant to you?'

_About what?_

'I'm blind in one eye. When I was seven my Muggle uncle beat me up really badly and it damaged the optic nerve to my left eye. It also gave me epilepsy. This summer I found out about magical eyes and went to see a healer about getting one fitted, but because of my epilepsy they won't give me one. They say that creating a magical nervous system for the eye to work would be too risky with my seizures.'

_I'm sorry, Harry, that's awful. I hope you uncle was severely punished for what he did._

'No. He stabbed himself after doing it and told everyone that it was burglar who attacked both of us. I knew no one would believe me because my aunt and uncle always told everyone I was a liar.'

_What about your parents? Surely you told them._

'They're dead. They died when I was a baby. My aunt and uncle raised me until that happened, then I ran away and lived on the streets for a few years.'

_My sympathies for your parents; I lost mine as a baby too. With whom do you live now?_

'I spent half the summer with my aunt and uncle because the headmaster tricked me even after I told him what my uncle did, but I spent the rest with Professor Snape, who's the Slytherin head of house, while he helped me set up appointments with the healers for my epilepsy and everything. I stayed at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays and I will for Easter too but I don't know what I'll do next summer.'

_The headmaster sent you to your uncle's despite knowing he almost killed you? That's dreadfully irresponsible of him._

'That's not even the worst thing he's done to me.'

_Oh?_

*FPS*

He hesitates, but really what harm is there in telling a book? As long as it keeps it locked away to stop anyone else writing in it, it's not like Riddle can tell anyone his secrets.

*FPS*

'I'm really powerful. After my uncle nearly killed me, I made a deal with a demon who made me really super powerful. I can do all kinds of magic without a wand or incantation. I call it Wish Magic because I just have to Wish for something to happen and it does. Dumbledore (that's the headmaster) doesn't like it and thinks I shouldn't have so much power so when he found out about it (just my power, I didn't tell him about the demon deal) he put these magic suppressing cuffs on me. That's how he tricked me into going to my uncle's. He only said he was taking me somewhere I could live for the summer but he put up these wards so I couldn't leave my uncle's house, and with the cuffs on I couldn't do Wish Magic to break out or anything. But it turns out that keeping my magic suppressed was killing me, which they didn't find out until just before Christmas when I had a seizure and fell into a coma. Apparently I stopped breathing twice and nearly died before they figured out what it was.'

_It sounds to me like Professor Dumbledore has no right being a teacher, let alone headmaster. Have you considered writing to the school governors? If they knew that he had almost killed a student and risked your safety by putting you with a Muggle who'd already tried to kill you..._

'I can't. I'd have to tell people about my power and they might find out who I am.'

_What do you mean?_

'I changed my name after I ran away. I don't use it anymore at all but when I was born, my parents named me Harry Potter. When I was a baby, there was this evil wizard called Voldemort and he tried to kill me. That's how my parents died, but when he tried to kill me it backfired on him and he was sort of destroyed but didn't die. I survived and no one knows how but now I'm famous. I don't want them all knowing who I am.'

*FPS*

It takes Riddle a long time to reply to that.

*FPS*

_You're an incredible young man, Harry. You assured that when you dealt with the demon, but now this... it just shows how powerful you are, to have survived the killing curse when you were just a baby. Dumbledore may have only wanted to suppress your powers, but others would want to use it for their own purposes. You're right to keep hidden. You're destined for greatness, Harry._

*FPS*

He doubts that, but Riddle's words make him smile anyway. It's nice to hear that someone thinks so much of him, even if it is just an old diary.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Harry's never concerned himself with Valentine's Day before. It was just a day like any other but which seemed to get anyone older than about thirteen in a huff over love and chocolate and flowers. Harry personally thought it was a load of rubbish and didn't see what all the fuss was about. But walking into the Great Hall on the fourteenth of February that year, he came to the conclusion that Valentine's Day had been invented by and for crazy people.

*FPS*

"Happy Valentine's Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn't end here! My friendly, card-carrying cupids! They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

*FPS*

Harry gets that feeling that anyone who dares to ask Snape about love potions would find their next goblet of pumpkin juice spiked with a painful and slow-acting poison.

*FPS*

Although annoying, Harry sees the humour of the cupids. He laughs at Tyler's annoyance at getting three cards, two heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, and four roses, all before lunch. They're not all from girls either, but reading the name Sebastian Calais on one of the cards doesn't make him any less annoyed and he shoves it into his bag with a scowl.

"Do you think he's actually gay," Cid asks at lunch, looking across at where Sebastian sits at the Ravenclaw table, his back to them, "or just hasn't realised you're a boy?"

"Shut up," Tyler snaps, stabbing his salad with a fork. "God, I can't wait for my voice to break."

"If it bothers you that much, why don't you cut your hair? That might make you look more boyish."

"Because I look stupid with short hair."

*FPS*

Tabitha Sinclair, one of the Slytherin girls, isn't impressed when she opens a card and finds an animated picture of a realistic human heart inside. She pulls a face as she reads it at lunch then throws it down the table at Cid.

"You're gross," she tells him.

"Aww, c'mon. It's better than that sappy shit all the others have."

"Whatever. No one will ever be your girlfriend, loser."

She leaves with Jia and the other two girls, shooting filthy looks at Cid as they pass.

"Not like I want a girlfriend anyway," Cid mutters, but Harry thinks he looks disappointed.

*FPS*

Tyler gets his own back on Harry when a cupid tracks them down on the way to Transfiguration that afternoon and hands Harry a bright pink envelope with a card inside. Tyler and Cid peer over his shoulders as he opens it, face red, and reads the short poem inside. It's signed from a secret admirer, but Harry recognises the handwriting. He's seen it enough times as Jia jots down notes next to him. When they get to Transfiguration, he convinces Cid to swap seats with him so he doesn't have to sit next to her, and he leaves as soon as the class is over, rushing out before she can try talking to him.

*FPS*

"Hermione!"

"Hi, Harry."

"I need help."

"With what? Is everything alright?"

He drags her into an empty classroom, shutting the door and turning to her with a pleading expression. "I got a Valentine's card from Jia."

"Oh. Um... that's sweet."

"But what am I supposed to _do_?"

"Is it definitely from her?"

"She didn't sign it but I recognise her handwriting. Hermione, what if she wants to... to be my girlfriend or something?"

Hermione looks amused. Harry finds the situation far from funny.

"Is that why you came to me? Because I'm a girl so I should know what you need to do?"

"Well... yeah. C'mon, Hermione, you're smart. You must have some advice."

"So are you, so figure it out yourself."

*FPS*

"Neville, I need help."

"Is this about that card Jia sent you?"

"Hermione told you? What am I meant to do?"

Neville shrugs unhelpfully. "I've never had a Valentine's card. I don't know anything about... that stuff."

*FPS*

He shuts himself in the dorm. He doesn't tell Cid or Tyler that he knows who the card is from; he doesn't need Cid's relentless mocking as he's done with Tyler all day.

*FPS*

'Tom, do you know about girls?'

He realises how stupid that sounds as soon as he's written it but by then it's too late and the words are already sinking into the page.

_I assume by that you mean do I know how to interact with them in a romantic capacity, rather than do I know they exist and are biologically different to boys._

Harry's glad a book can't tell he's blushing. 'Yeah. It's Valentine's Day and my friend Jia sent me a card and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it.'

_Perhaps say thank you?_

'But what if she wants to be my girlfriend?'

_Would you like her to be?_

'No. I like her as a friend but I don't want a girlfriend or anything.'

_Then tell her that._

Riddle makes it sound so easy and Harry grumpily closes the diary. It's alright for him; he's a book. It's not like there are any girl-books out there sending him Valentine's poems.

*FPS*

He manages to avoid seeing Jia until the next morning but she's already in the common room the next day when he goes out to head up to the Hospital Wing. She greets him like everything's normal and they head out together. Harry's tense, head racing as he figures out whether he's supposed to say anything about the card or not. She doesn't say anything, just walks alongside him like it's any other day, and he decides he won't say anything unless she does.

*FPS*

Slytherin's next Quidditch match is on the nineteenth and against Ravenclaw. They beat them narrowly, but it doesn't make up for their loss against Gryffindor, who won in their January match against Hufflepuff. It takes Slytherin out of the running for the Quidditch cup, leaving it to depend on the last match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

*FPS*

'Did you ever play Quidditch?'

_No, I preferred books to sports._

'I like books too but I love flying and I really want to be able to play Quidditch.'

_So why don't you?_

'I can't. It's too dangerous with my seizures, and I can't really catch balls and stuff when I'm half blind. I hate my uncle for doing this to me. Sometimes'

_Sometimes what?_

'Sometimes I think maybe the purebloods are right and Muggles are bad.'

*FPS*

It's not something he's ever really admitted, even to himself, but writing it now he knows it's true.

*FPS*

'I don't hate Muggleborns,' he adds quickly, 'but my aunt and uncle and cousin were all horrible and when I was on the streets there were Muggles who did bad things and sometimes I think maybe it's true that wizards are better. Does that make me a bad person?'

_No, Harry, you're not a bad person. It's perfectly understandable that you'd feel this way after everything you've been through._

'But it's not like there aren't bad wizards. Just look at Voldemort. Even Dumbledore.'

_Of course there are bad wizards as well, but __hating the people who hurt you_ doesn't make you a bad person. Distrust of Muggles isn't a terrible thing, Harry. You've studied our history, you've read about what they do to magical people.

'But that was centuries ago. People are better now. They've evolved.'

_Is your uncle amongst those who evolved?_

He closes the diary then, not because he disagrees, but because he doesn't and that bothers him.

*FPS*

He doesn't tell anyone about the diary. He wants to keep it to himself, not to mention Cid and Tyler would mock him endlessly for keeping a diary. But as the days go on he keeps writing in it, discussing the issue of Muggles and wizards or simply talking about his days.

*FPS*

When he comes to in the Easter holidays to find himself standing in the middle of the empty dorm room, he doesn't think much of it and just assumes he's had a focal seizure.

*FPS*

Gryffindor have their last match against Ravenclaw on the eighth of May. Harry misses it. He's not sure why and can only assume he's had a seizure. It'd explain why he finds himself in the Slytherin common room feeling disorientated. He's alone but just barely come to when the entrance opens behind him and the rest of the house comes pouring in. Jia comes up to him, her face scared.

"There's been another one."

"Another what?" he asks, but there's a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Another attack."

*FPS*

Penelope Clearwater is dead. She was killed near the library just that morning. Strict new rules are instituted. They're not allowed to go anywhere unsupervised, all extra curricular activities are cancelled, every single student has to be in their house common room by six o'clock. There's rumours that the school will be closing.

*FPS*

'There was another attack today, the first one in months. A Ravenclaw sixth year was killed.'

_That's horrible. Are you alright?_

'I don't know. I don't remember anything from this morning.'

_Did you sleep in?_

'No. I don't think so. I can't remember.'

_Harry, what's wrong? Tell me what you're thinking._

'I don't know. I just

'I don't feel right. I can't explain it.'

*FPS*

That evening, Ginny Weasley sits down by Fred and George and tells them about a diary she had in the first term, a diary that used to belong to Tom M. Riddle. She tells them that she used to write in that diary and it wrote back. She tells them about the black spots in her memory, black spots that time up exactly with the dates of the first attacks.

She nervously stands behind her brothers as they repeat the story to Percy, who takes all three of them to McGonagall's office. Percy tried to insist that only Ginny came, but the youngest Weasley refused to go without the twins.

When McGonagall hears the story, she swears she ages five years in five minutes. She sends the boys back to Gryffindor and escorts Ginny to Dumbledore's office, where Ginny tearfully repeats the story all over again.

Dumbledore sends McGonagall to take Ginny back to Gryffindor. He considers the girl's story, the diary with a mind of it's own, the diary that belonged to the darkest wizard Britain had ever seen. He isn't foolish enough to believe the diary was lost when it was flushed away, but he has no way of knowing who might have it now. He knows only that it must be somewhere in the castle, a prospect that both scares and relieves him. He hates having his students in such danger, despises the thought that one of his students is subject to the mind of Tom Riddle, but he knows about it now and knows that it's within his reach. If it's in the castle, he can find it.

*FPS*

Hagrid is arrested and afterwards everyone says it should have been obvious given his fondness for monsters. But Dumbledore leaves as well, told by the school governors to step down. They don't think he's suited to the position anymore. McGonagall takes his place.

*FPS*

The notices appear on Monday morning. Harry sees it as he's leaving for the Hospital Wing that morning, pinned to the noticeboard by the common room entrance.

LOST DIARY LABELLED

**T. M. RIDDLE**

IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO

PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL

IMMEDIATELY.

His breath catches and he has to run back to the dorm and grab the diary from his bedside cabinet. He starts to shove it in his bag then stops, suddenly thinking that they might search their bags if they're that desperate to find it. He sticks it in his trunk instead, locking it and then pressing his hand to the lid and Wishing _don't open for anyone but me_ just to be extra secure.

*FPS*

He hardly eats breakfast. Why are they looking for the diary? Do they teachers know that it's not a normal diary? Is it a coincidence that it's being asked for just days after the latest attack? Whoever owned the diary before must have known it's been missing since January; why are they only asking for news about it now?

*FPS*

He goes back to Slytherin after breakfast and takes it out of his trunk again. He doesn't feel secure leaving it in the dorm unattended so he shoves it to the bottom of his bag, Wishing it invisible and hoping that the teachers aren't so desperate to find the diary that they're going to start searching their bags.

*FPS*

'Why do they want you?'

_The person who owned me before you told me secrets, secrets that would ruin them if they ever got out._

'What secrets?'

_If I told you theirs, you wouldn't trust me to keep yours. Just don't tell anyone about me, Harry, and everything will be fine._

*FPS*

The teachers announce that exams will still be taken despite Penelope's death, which makes more than a few people groan and complain.

"How can they expect us to take fucking exams at a time like this?" Cid grumbles. "I mean someone fucking _died_. We're traumatised. We can't take exams."

"You didn't even know her," Tyler points out. "She was just some sixth year Ravenclaw."

Harry slams his history book shut, gets to his feet and storms from the common room. Cid and Tyler look after him, baffled.

"The fuck was that about?"

*FPS*

'It shouldn't even bother me this much,' he tells Tom. 'Tyler's right. Penelope was just some sixth year Ravenclaw, I didn't even know what she looked like until I saw the photos people put on the little memorial set up by the library with candles and pictures and teddies. I never even knew her name before she died.'

_It's empathy, Harry. It's perfectly natural to feel like this when someone's died._

'It just doesn't feel right. I mean I know someone being killed isn't right but'

_But?_

'I don't know. This is frustrating I don't know how to explain myself. There's just something that feels really wrong.'

*FPS*

Three days before the exams are due to start, McGonagall announces that the mandrakes are matured. Potion classes are cancelled so Snape can focus on making the restorative potion. Harry's relieved to hear it. He just wants this entire mess to be over.

*FPS*

_Don't worry, Harry. Soon it'll all be over. You won't have to worry about monsters or heirs or anything. Everything's going to be fine. You can trust me, Harry._

*FPS*

Filch finds the message, scrawled in blood right below the first.

_HIS SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER._

*FPS*

Snape's face turns so white when he hears the news that McGonagall thinks the man who can stand up to Lord Voldemort without batting an eyelash might now actually faint.

*FPS*

"Severus, are you alright?"

"He's my son."

Snape's voice is hollow. McGonagall's never heard him sound so hopelessly lost.

"Who's your son?"

"Evans. Harry. He's my son. Minerva, if he dies—"

He breaks off, unable to continue. McGonagall has no idea what to say to him.

*FPS*

Riddle bends over the semi-conscious body on the floor of the Chamber. Harry Evans—Harry Potter—is a small boy, physically unassuming and unthreatening. Both his green eyes are dull now, fading with every minute that Riddle drains the life from him. And what a life it is! The boy is a powerhouse, the very core of his magic accessible and stronger than anything Riddle's felt before, no doubt because of the demon deal. But Riddle can't help but feel disappointed in his older self. How could he, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, have been taken down by this mere child who hadn't even had power when Voldemort tried to kill him?

*FPS*

Lockhart packs everything, leaves his resignation on his desk, and flees the castle without a word to anyone.

*FPS*

Dumbledore floos straight into McGonagall's office, surprising the Transfiguration professor, who's taking five minutes to sit in quiet and try not to cry about the disaster that's befallen the school.

"Albus!"

"The students, they're still here?"

McGonagall nods.

"Fetch Ginny Weasley."

"What? Albus—"

"Minerva, please. We don't have time for questions. Fetch Miss Weasley immediately!"

*FPS*

Ginny sits nervously between her parents, Professor Dumbledore in front of her, McGonagall off to one side, and Snape behind them.

"Now, Ginny, I need you to look into my eyes and think about Hallowe'en night."

She inhales shakily and does so, clutching her mother's hand. Dumbledore's already explained everything, how they think her memories of that night are there, just buried. Dumbledore knows a spell, _Legilimency_, that'll let him access her memories, including (he hopes) the ones she can't recall.

She's hardly aware of his presence inside her head. There's a slight tickle along her hairline, but she's not sure if that's because of the spell or just her own imagination. For several long minutes, Dumbledore merely stares at her. She has a strong urge to break eye contact and duck her head, but she knows this is the only way they can find out where the Chamber of Secrets is and save Harry Evans.

She lets out a breath when Dumbledore finally blinks and looks away. He looks up at his fellow teachers and nods then looks at her parents.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley, please remain here with Ginny until someone comes for you."

"Did you find it?" her dad asks.

"Yes," Dumbledore says quietly.

*FPS*

Myrtle dive bombs into her toilet with a shriek when the three professors simultaneously blast the sink with Reductor Curses. They blow off two sinks and the resulting shockwave breaks every mirror in the room.

*FPS*

The three move slowly through the tunnel, bones crunching under foot. They find the huge snake-skin and Snape crouches by it, inspecting it closely. McGonagall has a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she shines her Lumos-lit wand over the scaly skin.

"Albus, only one snake could get this big," Snape murmurs, rising from his inspection.

Dumbledore nods, glancing between his two colleagues. "Be careful."

*FPS*

The snake-carved door slows them down, but doesn't stop them. It takes four hits of their combined reductor curses, but they finally break through. They're greeted by the loud hiss of an angry snake and only McGonagall's quick wandwork gets Snape out of the way of the lunging fangs.

*FPS*

The fight is hard and dirty. McGonagall hasn't been so physically strained in a long time, and somewhere in the back of her mind she bemoans her aging body. Her magic is as strong as ever, though.

*FPS*

Dumbledore takes out the serpent's eyes with two well-placed Stabbing Spells. Furious and hurt, the basilisk lunges at them wildly. At the other end of the long hall, Riddle is hissing orders at the snake in between shouted taunts.

"You'll never win, Dumbledore! This is my victory!"

*FPS*

Snape's scream echoes through the chamber, matched by a pained noise from the basilisk. Across the hall, McGonagall sees him fall, the white fang standing out starkly against his black robes. She shouts, a wordless cry of anger, and thrusts her wand towards the basilisk.

"_DECOLLO!_" she screams. The curse, designed to behead a victim, merely slashes deeply into the serpent's throat. It's enough. Dumbledore bellows his own curse at the choking snake, cleanly separating it's head from it's body. Both pieces fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

*FPS*

"FAWKES!"

The bird appears in a burst of flames at his owner's bellow. He swoops down to land beside Snape, claws clicking on the stone floor as he hops closer. He gives one haunting cry then lowers his head, tears dripping over his fiery face to fall onto the bloody wound.

*FPS*

It's not over yet.

"The diary!" Dumbledore yells to McGonagall. He flicks his wand, shooting a Throwing Hex at the solidifying figure of Tom Riddle. Riddle tries to dodge, but the hex catches his arm and knocks him off his feet. McGonagall summons the small book by Harry's unconscious body and plucks it out of the air. Riddle aims Harry's wand at her and Dumbledore flings a curse at him. Riddle blocks, but he's distracted.

McGonagall hits the diary with _destruo_, a spell that should disintegrate any inanimate object, but it rebounds harmlessly off the little book. She tries _reducto_, then several increasingly powerful hexes designed to destroy items, all to no effect. Even conjured fire fails to so much as char the edges.

*FPS*

Riddle knows he won't win this. He can't defeat Dumbledore, and McGonagall will figure out how to destroy the diary. His snake is dead and he'll never get past the three teachers to escape.

He dodges a curse and glances at the boy on the floor. He might be defeated, but that doesn't mean he has to _lose_.

*FPS*

It's Snape, skittering along the floor, one arm soaked in blood, who plunges the basilisk fang into the little book.

Riddle vanishes, his wand clattering to the floor. No one notices the tiny, smug grin on his face before he disappears, or the pained exhale Harry gives.

**A/N:** _Decollo_ and _Destruo_ are from 'A Guide to Spell, Hexes, and Curses' by Saerry Snape (FFN user id: 74156).


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The first thing Harry's aware of is cold, damp stone under his back. The last thing he remembers is seeing the blurry image of Tom Riddle manifesting in front of him. Now he's flat on his back, with a familiar weak feeling of a seizure along his right side, and there are voices nearby.

"Harry?"

He opens his eyes and looks up to see Professor Snape crouched beside him, McGonagall and Dumbledore standing just behind him.

"I didn't mean to," he blurts out. "He made me do it. I didn't want to, I swear. I couldn't—"

"Evans," Snape interrupts, "be quiet."

*FPS*

"Can you stand?"

He sits up, nodding, but doesn't pull away when Snape wraps a hand around his arm and helps him up.

"Sir, your arm—holy crap." He's just noticed the dead basilisk. "What happened?"

"I think that's a story best left until we're somewhere brighter, warmer, and all around safer," Dumbledore answers.

*FPS*

"So we're flying out?" Harry says when they reach the tunnel that leads out of the dungeons.

"We are. Fawkes."

"Fawkes?" Harry repeats blankly, then looks at the phoenix that's with them. "The _bird's_ getting us out?"

"Phoenixes can carry vast amounts of weight," Dumbledore tells him, wrapping one hand around Fawkes' tail feathers and then holding out his other to McGonagall. "How else did you expect to get out?"

"Like I said," Harry replies, lifting himself off the ground, "flying."

"That's all very well and good for you," Snape drawls, wrapping his hand around McGonagall's arm. "The rest of us are not so skilled."

"I can make other people fly too. Are you sure that bird can carry you all?"

As if to prove himself, Fawkes flaps his wings and starts up the tunnel, easily lifting the three teachers after him. Impressed, Harry follows.

*FPS*

Back in Myrtle's bathroom, they turn to inspect the damage to the wall. Dumbledore raises his wand but Snape puts an arm out to stop him. "I want to get back down there at some point."

McGonagall gapes at him. "Why on earth would you want to go down there again?"

"Minerva, do you have any idea how rare basilisk venom and scales are? That snake is big enough to stock my inventory for life. Not to mention I now have blood with both basilisk venom _and_ phoenix tears in it. The possibilities that are open to me—"

"Very well," Dumbledore interrupts, eyes twinkling. "We'll leave it open for now and cordon off the bathroom for the rest of term. It'll have to be repaired by the start of September, however."

"Thank you, Albus."

"Right now we need to worry about the rest of the school."

"There's no need to send the students home now, is there?" McGonagall says. "The heir and his monster are defeated."

"I quite agree. Minerva, if you could inform the rest of the staff, then tell the students. I will accompany Severus and young Mr Evans to the Hospital Wing."

*FPS*

Harry thinks he's spent entirely too much time in the Hospital Wing and he'd be quite glad to never set foot there again. But he trudges along beside Snape and Dumbledore and is glad when Dumbledore tells Pomfrey that they're fine to wait and she should continue administering the Mandrake Juice to the petrified victims.

*FPS*

"Am I going to be expelled?" Harry asks when he's finished telling them about finding the diary and writing in it for half the year.

"Not at all," Dumbledore assures him. "There will be no punishment. Older and wiser men than you have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort."

"Even though I... I killed Penelope Clearwater?"

"You did not kill Miss Clearwater," Snape says firmly. "The basilisk did and it was Riddle controlling you and it. You are no more to blame for her death than anyone else in this castle."

Harry's not sure he really believes that.

*FPS*

Dumbledore's barely back to his office when Lucius Malfoy comes storming in, furious and demanding to know where Dumbledore gets the nerve to come back to the school from which he'd been suspended.

*FPS*

Harry begs to be let out of the Hospital Wing to go to the feast that night. When he gets to the Great Hall, Hermione greets him with a hug and a demand to know what happened. He promises he'll tell her and Neville everything later and heads over to the Slytherin table, where Jia surprises him with a hug as well, though she's a little more awkward about it than Hermione.

*FPS*

"I heard you died, Evans."

"You wish, Malfoy."

*FPS*

Lucius Malfoy returns to his manor in a foul mood. He kicks Dobby so hard the little elf flies all the way down the hall and smashes into the wall at the end with a crack and a wail of pain. Lucius snarls. The other governors had some nerve, asking him to 'step down' because 'we no longer feel you're suited to the position'.

He storms to the cellar, throwing the door open so hard it smacks against the wall. Inside he moves through to the back, draws his wand and cuts his palm then smears blood to an unremarkable section of wall and a hidden door swings open. The room inside is cold and dark. He waves his wand and a torch on the wall flares to life, then he closes the wound on his hand with a murmured spell as the door shuts behind him.

There's a man in the room, crumpled on a mattress to one side, a blanket pulled around him. A bucket sits in the far corner, charmed to remain odourless despite the urine and faeces inside, and an empty plate and glass sit on the floor at the man's head. He sits up when Lucius enters but he doesn't get chance to speak. When Lucius points a wand at him and snarls "_Crucio!_" the man screams with a voice that's hoarse.

*FPS*

Snape's not surprised when McGonagall knocks on his door at nine o'clock the next morning, her face set into an expression that says she doesn't care how little sleep he's had, they're having their conversation and they're having it now.

*FPS*

"Does he know?"

"No. No one does except you and me."

"Not even Albus?"

Snape laughs dryly. "The last thing I need is the old man meddling in things."

"Do you plan to tell the boy?"

"No, and I swear, Minerva, I will obliviate you both if you tell him."

"Now really!"

"I mean it. I'm not father material and he doesn't need to know about me. I only told you because..."

"You were scared."

He scowls but doesn't argue with her.

*FPS*

"I don't know why you think you're not father material. You looked after him half the summer."

"I gave him a bedroom and escorted him to the hospital several times. We spent almost as much time there as at my house."

"I know _that's_ an exaggeration, and besides the point. You've always handled the Slytherin students just fine and he seems to like you well enough."

"I'm not telling him."

*FPS*

"Did Lily know?"

Snape gives her a withering glare. "Do you really have to ask that?"

"No, I suppose not. How did it happen? You know what I mean," she snaps when his glare turns to an amused raise of the eyebrows.

"An affair, if you could call it that. It was only one night."

"Long enough for an accident to happen."

Snape snorts and doesn't answer.

"Did James know?"

The mere mention of his name is enough to put a scowl on Snape's face, but he answers her. "I don't know. Lily and I agreed I would have nothing to do with boy; I don't know what she told Potter or any of their friends." He pauses, considering her. "I'm surprised you haven't asked if I'm sure he's mine."

"After spending the night thinking about it, I don't doubt it. He's got enough of Lily in him that at first you don't notice that he doesn't really look like James, save for the dark hair. But being told that he's yours, I can see it now, especially down in the Chamber last night. If you don't want anyone to know, you might want to avoid being seen side-by-side with him."

*FPS*

McGonagall's surprised when Harry turns up at her office that afternoon.

"I just want to thank you for saving me," he tells her sincerely. "I said it to Dum- Professors Dumbledore and Snape last night but didn't get a chance to say it to you, so thank you."

*FPS*

Harry gets called to Snape's office a week before the end of term.

"I will be remaining at the castle for the duration of the summer holidays. Professor Dumbledore has given his permission for you to remain here with me, if you so wish, under certain conditions."

"Yes," Harry agrees immediately, then asks, "What conditions?"

"You will have to share my living quarters rather than remain in Slytherin house. You will not tell anyone else that you are staying here. You will tell your friends that you won't be taking the train back to London due to a hospital appointment to which you will be flooing straight from the castle."

"Where am I supposed to tell them to send letters?"

"Tell them you will be travelling for the holidays and will be unreachable until the new year begins."

Harry nods, a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to keep in contact with his friends, but pleased that he's got somewhere definite to stay for the next two months. Previously he'd had only vague plans to go to Gringotts as soon as he reached London, convert some Galleons to pounds, and stay in a hotel for the holidays. He wouldn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron or any other wizarding establishment; it'd be too easy for Dumbledore to find him.

*FPS*

Snape and Harry aren't the only one's staying in the castle for the holidays. McGonagall's there as well and so's Dumbledore, and Snape mentions the rest of the staff will start trickling back after mid-August.

*FPS*

The house elves manipulate the castle into building an entirely new bedroom in Snape's quarters, which Harry thinks is dreadfully impressive. It's a respectable size, with a good bed and a desk for him to work at.

*FPS*

"Why don't you live here all the time?"

"Why would I?"

"Well, this sitting room's bigger than the entire ground floor of your house. Plus you've got your lab and the house elves to make food for you. I'd live here all the time if I could."

"Believe it or not, some of us appreciate a change of scenery sometimes."

"That's what holidays are for."

"And a teacher's salary only stretches so far."

*FPS*

The first time Snape goes down to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry begs to go down with him.

"Why?"

"I didn't really get to see it last time, and it's not dangerous anymore."

"Just because the basilisk is dead and Riddle gone does not mean it is safe."

"It's safe enough for you and I can look after myself. Please, sir. I can help you collect the venom and scales and stuff."

Snape relents under the condition Harry stay within his sight at all times and do exactly as he's told. His 'helping' to harvest the dead basilisk consists of holding the vials and jars for Snape to put things in, which isn't exactly fun, but it's a novel way to spend his morning so he doesn't complain too much.

*FPS*

He has all his holiday homework finished within a week. He's forbidden from entering Snape's lab except in case of emergency or with Snape's express permission, which doesn't happen much. He spends a lot of time exploring the castle, finding secret passageways and short cuts that he hasn't before.

*FPS*

"Evans, if you don't stop tapping your fingers I will stick them together."

"Sorry."

"Don't you have homework to do?"

"Finished it."

"Then read a book."

"I don't know what."

"Perhaps you should research tourist locations so you've got something to tell your friends when they ask what you've been doing all summer."

"I guess that's probably a good idea."

*FPS*

Halfway through July, on a particularly boring day, he invents a new game which involves jumping off a moving staircase and onto a lower one, using his magic only to stop himself getting killed. He's forbidden from doing wand magic, but his Wish Magic goes undetected by the Ministry Trace. For extra thrills, he aims for staircases with trick steps on them. This keeps him entertained for several hours until McGonagall sees him leap off a staircase and shrieks loud enough to make several portraits slap their hands over their ears and causes Harry to lose his concentration. He hurtles downwards for two terrifying seconds before catching himself again.

McGonagall makes him clean all the desks in her classroom without magic as punishment and sets him five hundred lines about not doing stupid and life threatening activities.

*FPS*

Snape won't fly with him but he does agree to sit in the stands on the Quidditch pitch and keep watch as Harry borrows a school broom and flies. He's under orders to keep it slow, which Harry thinks won't be a problem on the school's ancient Shooting Star.

*FPS*

"MR EVANS, GET DOWN HERE AT ONCE!"

Harry spins to a halt in what's supposed to be a very cool 180-degree turn and stop, but which the Shooting Star turns into a 872-degree spin. He turns again and looks down at Professor McGonagall, stood on the ground with a furious look on her face.

"Minerva, he's fine," Snape calls from the stands. McGonagall looks over at him, lips still pursed, and Snape gestures for Harry to carry on as the Transfiguration professor heads for the steps.

*FPS*

"It's a shame he can't play Quidditch. He's a very good flier."

"He'd certainly put the Gryffindor team to shame."

McGonagall scoffs. "My team is excellent and I fully expect Gryffindor to take the Quidditch Cup next summer. We'd have had it this year if it hadn't been for the attacks."

"If you win it would deprive Oliver Wood of the opportunity to drown himself in despair."

"He is quite obsessed, isn't he?"

"Still, if you do win—and that's a big if—he might die of joy."

"Now really, Severus," McGonagall scolds, but there's amusement in her eyes.

*FPS*

He knows he shouldn't be in there, but he's bored one Sunday a week before his birthday and Snape's shut in his lab. He just wants to check out the books, anyway. He knows Snape keeps all the really interesting one's in his room. So he keeps his ears open for the sound of Snape coming back and sneaks inside. He's not surprised to find that Snape's room is dark and uninviting. The bed's neatly made but there's no photos or ornaments or any kind of personal effects. His got a plain, dark wood wardrobe and two bookshelves the same colour. Harry goes to them, inspecting titles, levitating himself up to read the ones on the top shelves.

*FPS*

It falls out of a herbology text. He's trying to get out a thin book with no title on the spine and has to pull the herbology book out to get to it. As he does, a bit of paper falls from the pages. He curses, lowers himself to pick it up, hoping Snape won't notice if he puts it back in the wrong place, but forgets about that when he picks the paper up and instead of seeing Snape's spidery scrawl or even printed text, he sees large, childish handwriting that reads at the top of the page, _Dear Father Christmas_.

*FPS*

Harry's walking out of Snape's bedroom when he returns from his lab. Snape's angry scolding dies on his tongue as Harry lift his head and looks at Snape with an expression of hateful accusation. He's got a piece of paper clutched in shaking hands and even from the door Snape can see the childish scrawl.

"It was you," he says in the quietly dangerous voice that took Snape years of teaching to perfect.

"You're not allowed in there."

He knows it's the wrong thing to say even as he says it but his brain's floundering because Harry was never meant to know and Snape's never figured out what he'd say if he ever found out.

And that's all he manages to think before he's thrown backward, feet leaving the floor as an invisible force slams into him. He hits the door behind him, the wind knocked from his lungs milliseconds before he head smacks against stones and then everything goes black.

*FPS*

McGonagall's relaxing with a cup of tea and a copy of _Witch Weekly_ (it's a guilty pleasure and sometimes the trashy articles are amusing) when a near-hysterical house elf pops into her quarters jabbering something about Snape being dead.

*FPS*

She finds the door to Snape's quarters pushed open. Snape's on the floor just inside, groaning as he comes to, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. She hurries to his side and helps him sit up.

"What on earth happened?"

"I don't know," he says, wincing as she gingerly touches the back of his head. "The last thing I remember is leaving my lab."

*FPS*

She calls an emergency response healer, who fixes the back of his head but says he's got a concussion and needs keeping an eye on for a couple of days. While he's being seen, McGonagall checks the rest of the quarters for Harry. She doesn't find him, but she does find the letter to Father Christmas. She doesn't say anything about it until the healer's gone again and Snape's settled on his sofa, then she holds it out.

"Would you care to explain this?"

*FPS*

"You were right, Severus."

"About?"

"You're not father material."

*FPS*

McGonagall calls Dumbledore to sit with Snape. Snape takes an glowing emerald pendant from around his neck and tells them it's connected to a tracking charm he'd put on Harry's medical bracelet. Dumbledore points out that if Harry's invisible, it will do them no good, but Snape tells them that if Harry were hidden, the pendant wouldn't glow. McGonagall takes it, too angry at Snape to stay with him and knowing Harry would probably react to her best right now.

When the emerald takes her all the way to the end of Hogsmeade and continues to point south, she realises that Harry's run a lot farther than they'd expected. She goes back to the castle to tell Snape and Dumbledore, fetch a cloak and a broom, and begins flying south, a knot in her stomach as she thinks of all the terrible things that could happen to the boy in the time it takes her to find him.

*FPS*

Four hours later she's reached the Scotland-England border, night is well on it's way, and the emerald is still pointing south. She lands, stretches her legs and takes a moment to think about how she's too old to spend four hours on a broomstick, and then, working on a hunch, she Apparates to the Leaky Cauldron.

*FPS*

Her hunch is right. The emerald points east and she leaves her broom with Tom the barman and exits into Muggle London.

*FPS*

Just over an hour later she finds Harry in the living room of a decrepit house with a dozen other children, all sat around a fire and talking cheerfully. They fall silent when she enters and she sees several of them reach for weapons.

"I didn't mean to kill him," Harry blurts out, and the other children look at him in surprise.

"Kill who?" asks a girl of about fifteen.

"He's not dead," McGonagall says, and Harry slumps in relief.

"She ya ma?"

"She's a teacher at my school," Harry tells the girl. "But I'm probably expelled now."

"You're not. Professor Dumbledore and I know why you attacked Snape; you won't be expelled. Now come along."

"I don't want to go back."

"Don't be ridiculous, you cannot stay here."

*FPS*

The oldest of the group, a girl of maybe eighteen, gets to her feet. She's holds a metal pipe in one hand but doesn't raise it.

"If 'e don't wanna go back, 'e don't hafta, lady."

"That's none of your concern. Mr Evans, come along. It's dark and unsafe."

"Oi! We know 'ow to look after ourselves. Now get lost, lady. We ain't lettin' ya take 'im if 'e don't wanna go."

There's nods and murmurs of agreement from the other children and more of them get to their feet. McGonagall sighs irritably.

"Mr Evans, will you at least accompany me to the Leaky Cauldron so we can discuss this?"

*FPS*

Harry agrees to that, assuring the other kids that he'll be fine. They let him go but suspicious eyes follow McGonagall out the house and up the street.

"Are you alright?" she asks Harry, who nods, not looking at her.

"He told you why I attacked him?"

"I saw the letter. How old where you when you wrote that?"

Harry shrugs. "Five maybe."

McGonagall's lips purse and she gestures to an alley. "Come down here. I'll Apparate you back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"I mean it that I don't want to go back," he says warningly.

"Let's just get you some dinner and have a talk."

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are appreciated, and don't hold your breath waiting to find out who Lucius' mysterious prisoner is. I won't reveal that until Chapter 32.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

At the Leaky Cauldron McGonagall orders them some dinner and uses the fireplace to call Hogwarts to let them know she's found Harry and he's safe.

"How did you manage to get all the way down here?" she asks Harry when Tom's brought their food over, and Harry gets a guilty expression on his face. "Did you use the floo?"

"I can Apparate," he admits.

"You're twelve years old, how can you possible Apparate?"

"The same why I can turn invisible."

"Of course," she says, because what else can she say? "And how long have you known how to Apparate?"

"Since February last year. How did you find me?"

"Professor Snape put a tracking charm on your bracelet," she tells him and he scowls.

"He's got no right to do that."

"It's a good job he did or we would have spent a lot longer looking for you. We're lucky you didn't choose to turn invisible today; Professor Dumbledore tells me you'd be impossible to find if you were."

He nods in agreement. "I was at first, but I saw one of those girls back there getting attacked by a man so I helped her, and that's why they let me join them."

"That was very good of you."

*FPS*

"Mr Evans... Harry, what Severus did—"

"I hope he gets eaten by a manticore," he says, viciously stabbing a potato.

"Harry—"

"I mean it. I hate him. Him and Dumbledore. Why is it always the men?" he asks bitterly. "Them, my uncle, even Voldemort. Am I going to end up like them one day? A stupid, horrible person that does bad things just because I've got a—" he breaks off, cheeks going red as he remembers exactly who he's talking to.

"No," McGonagall says with the calm composure of a teacher who's spent decades dealing with vulgar, crude, and awkward teenagers. "There are plenty of unpleasant women out there too, and plenty of good men."

*FPS*

"If you wish, you can move into my quarters for the rest of the holidays."

Harry shakes his head. "I'm not going back. I don't want to see him."

"You'll have to when the new term starts."

"That's not for over a month, plus that'll only be in classes and stuff."

"And where did you plan to stay for that month if not at the school? With those other children?"

He shrugs. "Maybe. Before school ended I thought about living in a hotel. Or maybe travelling around like everyone thinks I am."

"Alone?"

"I can look after myself, professor. I did it for years."

"That doesn't mean you should."

*FPS*

"You will have to talk to him eventually."

"In class."

"No, you will have to discuss what happened."

"Why?" he asks angrily. "He left me there when he knew what my uncle was doing. He just brought presents like that made everything okay. If he'd actually done something Uncle Vernon never would have nearly killed me and made me have these stupid seizures and everything else that's wrong with me."

McGonagall's fork clatters against her plate. "_He _did that?"

"Dumbledore didn't tell you?"

"_Dumbledore _knew? Since when?"

"I told him last summer, after the thing with Quirrell."

"And he still sent you back there?!"

*FPS*

Dumbledore's still in Snape's quarters when McGonagall gets back to the castle. He's about to ask where Harry is but McGonagall gives him such a furious look that he shuts his mouth, deciding not to speak.

Snape's not so smart. "Where is he?"

"Harry will be spending the rest of the summer at the Leaky Cauldron. I've come to collect his things for him."

"Minerva—"

"Severus Snape, if you say one more word I will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth!"

Snape snaps his mouth shut.

"Neither of you have any right to decide where he stays for the rest of the holidays. You're lucky I convinced him to spend the time at the Cauldron instead of living on the street with a bunch of homeless children! Lily and James would be rolling in their graves if they could see the way you've treated him."

*FPS*

Harry books into the Leaky Cauldron's best room. McGonagall tells him she'll come and check up on him every Sunday and that he should stay in the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. He says he will, but the next morning he goes to Gringotts and changes some of his Galleons to pounds, Disapparates from the Leaky Cauldron, and reappears in the Lake District. It's the first place he'd looked up when he took Snape's suggestion about researching places to tell people he'd visited and immediately decided he'd like to visit for real one day. He spends the day walking along Lake Windermere, paddling in the shallows, and renting a small rowing boat that he sits in calmly while the oars push themselves.

*FPS*

It's not that hard to make himself look like an adult so the boat rental place will serve him. He'd figured that if he could make himself invisible and conceal his scar, then why couldn't he make himself appear to be a full grown adult? He had been sensible enough to check it in a mirror before approaching anyone though.

*FPS*

He still can't quite bring himself to get rid of or destroy his Famous Figurines or Kiwi. He leaves the figurines shrunk down and buried tucked at the bottom of his trunk, but he likes Kiwi too much to leave her shut away when he's somewhere he doesn't have to worry about people making fun of him.

*FPS*

He buys a camera the next day and takes it with him when he goes back to the Lake District, this time hiking along the trails. He takes pictures of himself and of Kiwi, balancing her in trees on or rocks. The day after that he goes to visit Stonehenge; the day after, the Roman Baths; and the day after that, the National History Museum and the London Dungeons.

*FPS*

It's his birthday the next day and McGonagall floos into the Leaky Cauldron just as Harry's deciding what to have for breakfast, hurrying over with a tense expression.

"Mr Evans, I need a private word."

They go up to his room where McGonagall sits him down and tells him that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban prison and that she wants him to come back to Hogwarts because of it. She promises him he won't have to see Snape or Dumbledore but it's simply not safe for him to stay at the Leaky Cauldron alone.

"Sorry, professor, I'm not going back until September."

"Have you listened to a word I've said? Black is incredibly dangerous."

"I know. I read about him when I first learned about Voldemort. I know he killed all those people the night Voldemort tried to kill me and he probably wants _me_ dead for defeating Voldemort, but I'm not going back. I can look after myself and I'm doing as you said and staying in wizarding London," he lies. "But I'm not going back and if you try to make me I'll just run away again and this time I'll stay invisible."

She relents, deciding it's better to let him stay at the Leaky Cauldron than have him running off God only knows where when Sirius Black is on the loose.

*FPS*

He spends his birthday in Diagon Alley, debating whether he should keep his word to McGonagall and stay there now that there's a mass murderer on the loose, but he's had too much fun this past week to give it up and as he'd said, he can look after himself.

*FPS*

Over the next four weeks he visits different place almost every day, staying in Diagon Alley only on Sundays when McGonagall comes to check him. He visits Brighton beach; London Zoo and the Natural History Museum twice more; Warwick Castle, which is nothing compared to Hogwarts, to watch sword fights and bird shows; Buckingham Palace, where he sneaks into the No Visitors areas and catches a glimpse of the Queen; and the Loch Ness to see the lake monster. He visits cathedrals and botanical gardens, gets drunk at a rave in Blackpool (he doesn't like it) and stoned at the Strawberry Fair in Cambridge (not so bad), and climbs (well, flies mostly) up Ben Nevis mountain in Scotland.

*FPS*

Harry stays in Diagon Alley on the thirty-first, figuring he should spend the day relaxing before going back to Hogwarts. He's already bought his school supplies, but he takes his camera film to get developed, paying the extra price for one-hour development, and visiting Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. As he's sat there, he notices Tyler Lyle with his friend Alex Stone, and two people who are obviously Alex's parents. He waves when he catches Tyler's eye and the four of them come over to join him.

*FPS*

"Hey, Harry, how's your holiday been?" Tyler greets, dropping into a chair when they've got their ice creams.

"Pretty good. Yours?"

"Not bad. This is Alex's mum and dad, by the way," he introduces because Alex is already digging into his chocolate sundae. Mr and Mrs Stone greet him with warm smiles. "You here alone?"

"Yeah, I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron."

"So are we. Marcus is at work but he wants to come to Kings Cross in the morning so we're staying at the Cauldron tonight so he doesn't have to go back to Bath. Dunno why, he travels back and forth every day, but you know what adults are like."

*FPS*

He joins them as they finish their shopping for school supplies, just to have some company, but picks up his photos alone so that Alex and Tyler won't ask to see them immediately. He'll share them when he's been through and taken out the one's with Kiwi in.

*FPS*

He meets Tyler's adopted dad, Marcus Fleetwood, later that evening just as they're about to sit down in the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. Mr Fleetwood is old, walks with a limp and uses a walking stick, but his back is straight and his hardened face says he's not someone to be taken lightly. Nonetheless, he greets Harry with a handshake and a smile that makes his face a little less imposing.

"Pleasure to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?"

"Yes, sir, but I'm alright."

"How are you getting to the station in the morning?"

"I'm taking a taxi."

"That's not safe with Sirius Black on the loose. Would you like to come with us? Jon," he says with a nod to Mr Stone, "will be going to work in the morning anyway so we'll have a spare seat in the car."

"Oh, I'm not sure—" he begins, but Mrs Stone cuts him off.

"Nonsense, dear. You can't travel alone. You'll come with us."

"Oh, well, thank you."

*FPS*

"Where do you work, Mr Fleetwood?"

"Ministry of Magic, and call me Marcus."

"Just don't ask about what he does," Tyler says. "He's Head of the Department of Mysteries and the only mystery is how he doesn't kill himself out of boredom from all the paperwork he has to do."

*FPS*

Marcus owns a large, sleek, shiny black saloon car, and when Harry and Tyler lift their trunks into the boot, Harry realises it's been enchanted to be larger on the inside. There's no other way they'd fit three trunks in there. When they're all in, Harry, Tyler, and Alex sit comfortably in the back, while Mrs Stone sits in the front and Mr Fleetwood drives.

*FPS*

Harry thanks them again at the station and goes to find a carriage for them while Tyler and Alex say goodbye. He finds Cid Villiers sat with Ed Coleman in a carriage and joins them. Cid's not pleased to hear Harry's spent the summer visiting all sorts of places; his dad had clamped down on his going out when Sirius Black's escape was reported.

"Sucks for you," Tyler says unsympathetically when he hears. "Marcus put a Tracking Charm on me and convinced Alex's parents to do the same and we had an earlier curfew, but that was it."

"My parents didn't do anything," Ed remarks. "He was reported on the Muggle news, but they didn't make such a big deal out of it as the _Prophet_. Nick and I agreed we'd keep quiet about it so they didn't decide it was too dangerous for us to go out."

"So unfair," Cid grumbles. "Wish I'd spent the summer with my mother instead; she's always eager to get me out of the house, but that might have upset Layla so maybe it's best I stayed with Dad..."

"Layla?"

"My sister. Half-sister, strictly, but neither of us care about that. She's starting at Hogwarts next year."

"I'd like a sister," Alex muses. "Or a brother. It'd be cool to have a sibling."

"Not older ones," Ed counters. "Old brothers suck. Sisters are alright though, but that could be because she's ten years older than me rather than because she's a girl."

"Is your sister a witch too?" Harry asks and Ed nods.

"We all are. Mum and Dad were pleased with that. Nick says when Abi got her letter, they were worried we wouldn't be magic and it'd gives us an inferiority complex or something. Dad's still hoping one of us will join the RAF though."

"RAF?" Cid repeats blankly.

"Royal Air Force. They're sort of like Muggle soldiers only they fight in aeroplanes instead of on the ground."

"Aeroplanes are those things Muggles use to fly, right? How do you fight in those things? And fight who?"

*FPS*

Ed, Tyler, Harry, and Alex (who, despite being pureblood, grew up in a Muggle neighbourhood and went to a Muggle primary school along with Tyler) explain aeroplanes, guns, and the Muggle military until the trolley witch comes by just after one o'clock, at which point Cid says they've bored him long enough.

*FPS*

They're not far from Hogsmeade when the train comes to a shuddering halt. Tyler gets up, prepared to leave the train as fast as possible, but they've not arrived yet. The lights go out and Alex squeaks nervously, then an intense cold washes over Harry and the rest of the compartment seems to fade away. He hears screaming and somewhere past that his uncle's voice calling him an ungrateful freak and the memory of pain of a large fist smacks against his head again and again and again until everything goes black.

*FPS*

Remus Lupin would be lying if he said he hadn't hoped to see his best friend's son on the train to Hogwarts. Dumbledore's already informed him about Harry's name change, his disabilities, and his desire to keep his identity secret. But he hadn't expected that the first time he saw the boy, Harry would be on the floor of a compartment, body twitching and a jumper tucked under his head, while four other pale-faced second years sit with their feet pulled up out of the way, one of them vomiting into a paper bag while his friend holds his hair back.

*FPS*

"Don't," Cid says when Lupin starts towards Harry. "We have to wait for it to stop. It might hurt him if we try moving him."

Lupin nods. "What's his name? I'm going to send an owl ahead to the school nurse."

"Harry Evans."

"And him?" he asks, gesturing to Tyler.

"Tyler Lyle, but he just gets travel sick."

"Yeah, but he took his potion an hour ago," Alex says, "and he nearly fainted when that thing turned up."

*FPS*

When Lupin comes back from the driver's cabin, Tyler's stopped throwing up but still looks nauseous, and Harry's up on the seats, drowsy but responsive. When both he and Tyler refuse chocolate, Lupin insists on staying with them until the train reaches the station and when they get there, he stays with them to the carriages that take them up to the school.

"We can look after him, professor," Cid says as Tyler groans at the sight of the carriage and the thought of more travelling. "We've been told what to do."

"There are more Dementors guarding the school," Lupin tells them. "I think it's best if I stay with you in case he has another seizure."

They don't argue with that.

*FPS*

"Ugly horses," Tyler mutters as he climbs in a carriage with Ed and Alex while Harry, Cid, and Lupin move to the one ahead. Lupin glances at him in surprise as they pass but doesn't stop and hears Alex ask confusedly, "What horses?"

*FPS*

"You the new Defence professor?" Cid asks Lupin as the carriage heads up to the castle.

"I am."

"How come you took the train? I thought professors went to the castle earlier in the summer."

"I was ill and couldn't come up until today."

Cid nods then shivers as the carriage passes through the gates and past the Dementors. Beside him, Harry shudders but doesn't fall into another seizure.

*FPS*

"Tyler's right," Harry says a little weakly when they get out of the carriage. "They are ugly."

"What are?" Cid asks, not noticing Lupin's surprised and sad look at Harry.

"Those horses."

"What horses?"

"Pulling the carriages."

"I think you're seeing things, Harry. There's no horses there."

*FPS*

Snape and Pomfrey meet them in the Entrance Hall. Snape's expression instantly darkens when he sees Lupin standing by Harry.

"We'll take them from here," he says snidely as Pomfrey bends to inspect Harry. "They don't need _your _help, Lupin."

"I don't need _your_ help," Harry snaps at him, eyes and voice full of hate despite wanting to just lie down at go to sleep. His friends look surprised at his tone and Lupin looks from him to Snape with a questioning expression.

*FPS*

"Ah, Poppy, you're here," McGonagall says, hurrying over with a slightly confused Hermione close behind her. "Bring him to my office."

Snape looks like he wants to say something but McGonagall shoots him a dark look and he turns to the other students. "You four, move along."

"Madam Pomfrey, you might want to check Tyler as well," Lupin says. "Alex, was it? Said he very nearly fainted when the Dementor came by and he was too ill to take any chocolate."

"I'd thank you not to concern yourself with _my _students, Lupin."

Lupin looks at Snape calmly and replies gently, "As a teacher at this school, I will concern myself with all its students."

"Mr Lyle, come with us," McGonagall says before Snape can respond. "You three, on your way. You two," she adds only loud enough for Lupin and Snape to hear, "keep your rivalry away from the children. You're supposed to set an example."

*FPS*

Tyler looks like he might throw up again when Pomfrey practically force-feeds him and Harry some chocolate. Harry sits idly eating his as Pomfrey checks him over. It chases away the lingering coldness that the Dementor had caused and by the time Pomfrey's done he feels up to going to the Great Hall. He and Tyler are told to wait outside while McGonagall talks to Hermione, then the three of them and McGonagall walk down to the Great Hall together.

*FPS*

"Are you alright?" Hermione asks Harry, who nods.

"Just a little tired. How are you? Did you have a good holiday?"

"Not bad. I'll tell you about it later and you can tell me all the places you've been."

*FPS*

"How did you end up friends with a Gryffindor third year?" Tyler asks Harry when they reach the Great Hall and Hermione heads off to the Gryffindor table.

"I knew her before I started at Hogwarts," Harry tells him, which isn't a complete lie.

"Fair enough. Did you see those horse things pulling the carriages?"

Harry nods. "Thought I was seeing things. Cid said there was nothing there."

"Alex and Ed couldn't see them either. We couldn't both have been seeing things, right?"

"Unless it was the Dementor that caused it. It didn't affect them as much as us."

"Maybe."

*FPS*

"As you may have noticed, Hogwarts is playing host to the Dementors of Azkaban on business for the Ministry of Magic. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks."

Dumbledore's gaze flicks towards Harry then, but he needn't have bothered. Harry has no plans to test either his cloak or his Wish Magic against the Dementors. He'll gladly stay as far away from them as possible.

"It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors."

*FPS*

Harry doesn't get a chance to talk to Jia that evening. She's sat too far down the table from him, Tyler, and Cid and by the time the meal's over, Harry's about ready to collapse. He trudges down to Slytherin between Cid and Tyler, going to the dorm and digging out his pyjamas, changing, and then falling into bed, asleep almost instantly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Harry feels better by morning and better still after he's had a shower. He grins at Jia when he leaves the boys' corridor at the same time she leaves the girls' one, but instead of returning it she sighs, as though annoyed to see him, and shrugs her bag further up her shoulder before approaching him.

"Look, Harry, I don't think we should be friends anymore."

He blinks. "What?"

"It's just that we hung out together at first because you knew where everything was and I didn't want to get lost, and then we just sort of carried on, then I had a bit of a crush on you but I'm over that now. Over the holidays I realised that we just don't really have anything in common and it seems like we'd both be better off if we just admitted that we're not really friends, and move on."

"Oh," he says. "Um. Alright."

She smiles, but only the way she'd smile at a stranger in the street—polite and courteous, but lacking any warmth of feeling. "I hope you had a good summer."

*FPS*

Harry stands watching her leave the common room, feeling confused and a little lost. Were they really 'not really friends'? He'd thought they were. They sat together in class, walked to the Hospital Wing every morning for their potions, and did homework together. Admittedly that was all they did. They didn't play games or go to clubs or sit and talk about things. He'd never really thought about it before, but he supposes she's probably right and they're not friends.

*FPS*

"You'll get over it soon enough."

He jumps, turning to see Logan Sparrow, the boy he'd ate Christmas dinner with the year before, stood just outside the corridor to the boys dorm. He hadn't heard him come in. "Sorry?"

"Your girlfriend. You'll get over her and move on."

"She wasn't my girlfriend."

Logan shrugs. "So don't look so miserable that she dumped you."

*FPS*

He passes Jia on his way to the Hospital Wing but she doesn't even glance at him. He's surprised to realise it doesn't bother him.

*FPS*

Their first class is Defence Against the Dark Arts. Lupin sits at his desk and gives them an oral quiz, saying he knows of Lockhart's incompetence and wants to find out what skill level they're at before he continues. He gives out a house point for every correct answer, and two if someone can expand on the topic. By the end of the lesson, Slytherin's almost twenty points up and seven of those are from Harry alone.

*FPS*

Harry has Potions that afternoon. He doesn't look at Snape, instead staring at the parchment in front of him as he takes notes and then keeping his gaze down as they start brewing. Snape doesn't call on him to answer questions or comment on his potion, which he ruins because just being in Snape's presence makes him too angry to properly pay attention to what he's doing.

*FPS*

Lupin doesn't notice Snape as he's walking to the staff room just after classes on Wednesday afternoon until he almost walks into him and Snape snarls, "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry, Severus," Lupin replies calmly, looking up from the fifth year papers he'd been reading. Snape's lip curls but before he can say anything there's a terrified cry from inside the staff room and both men grab their wands, Lupin dropping his papers in the process, and hurry inside.

*FPS*

The first thing they notice is the horrendous smell. The second is Harry, backed into the corner and his face white as a sheet as he stares at a balding man of average height and wearing a long black coat. Harry's holding one hand up, pointing it shakily at the man and shouting for him to stop, his voice full of panic, but the man keeps advancing.

"_Incarcerus!_" Snape snarls, and there's a bang as ropes appear and bind themselves around the man, who staggers but doesn't fall and turns to face him, showing eyes that are entirely red save for the pitch black pupils. Lupin runs forwards to put himself between the man and Harry, who's on the verge of hyperventilating, and the movement draws the man's attention. The ropes fall away as there's a loud crack and the man turns into a hovering silver orb. At the same moment, the furniture in the room lifts of the floor and then the orb goes flying away from Lupin and Harry to crash into the wardrobe at the other end of the room with enough force to smash through the doors.

*FPS*

Lupin lowers his wand, baffled as the furniture in the room settles back down. Behind him, Harry is still on the brink of hyperventilating and he turns, bending slightly to put his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Harry, calm down. You're safe now."

"I couldn't—I—my mag-"

"Stop. Just breathe, alright? Let go into the corridor to get away from this smell."

Snape repairs the wardrobe with a flick of his wand then locks the Boggart inside and follows Lupin and Harry out, just as eager to escape the horrendous stench.

*FPS*

"That—what was that?" Harry asks Lupin shakily when he's got his breathing under control.

"It was a Boggart, a shape-shifter that takes the form of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

Harry glances towards the staff room door and swallows. His face is still pale.

"Harry, who was that man?" Lupin asks him gently.

"No one. Just someone I met once," he says when Lupin frowns disapprovingly at his first answer.

"Someone who still terrifies you now," Snape points out. Harry doesn't even glance at him.

"I should get back to Slytherin. Thanks, professor."

"Wait," Snape orders. "What were you doing in there in the first place?"

Once again Harry doesn't even glance at him, eyes on Lupin as he answers the question. "Cid dared me to put some dungbombs in there."

"That explains the smell," Lupin murmurs, smiling slightly. "I think the Boggart scared you enough so we won't punish you, don't you agree, Professor Snape?"

Snape nods once and Harry mutters a thanks and rushes off.

*FPS*

"Why does he hate you so much?"

Left alone with Lupin, Snape's expression turns distasteful instantly. "I don't see that it's any concern of yours," he sneers, turning and walking away.

"Does he know?" Lupin calls after him and Snape stops, turning slowly to face him.

"Know what?"

"I shared a dorm with James for seven years, Severus. That boy isn't—"

"No," Snape cuts in, stalking forwards, expression angry. "Nor does anyone else so you'll keep it to yourself, mutt."

"Do you plan to tell him?"

"No, and neither will you or the entire school will know what you are and Dumbledore can find a new Defence professor."

*FPS*

At breakfast on Friday Harry hears about Neville's Boggart turning into Professor Snape during his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The Slytherin second years have Potions class with the Hufflepuffs that morning and Harry's never heard the room so silent before. Not even any of the Slytherins dare speak out of turn when Snape's clearly in such a foul mood.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't get a chance to speak to Neville and Hermione until the weekend. He catches up with Hermione on the way out of the Great Hall after breakfast on Saturday, but she tells him she can't stop to chat.

"Sorry, Harry, I need to get to the library. I've got a ton of homework."

"Already?"

"I'm taking a lot of classes this year. I'm sorry, we'll talk later, alright?"

*FPS*

He spends the morning with Neville instead, sitting out in the courtyard and talking about their summers, the Boggart (Neville's dreading Potions classes now), and the Care of Magical Creatures lesson where Draco Malfoy got mauled by a hippogriff.

*FPS*

Draco's first instinct, once Madam Pomfrey had fixed his arm from the hippogriff attack, was to milk it for all it's worth. The injury would have been a great way to garner sympathy and to piss off the Gryffindors. He might have even been able to get that brainless oaf Hagrid fired.

But this was supposed to be the year he joined the Slytherin Quidditch team. His father had promised him a Firebolt if he got onto the team, but if he milked the injury, he'd have had no chance of making it and even getting Hagrid fired wasn't worth that.

*FPS*

Harry's good mood turns sour at lunch on Sunday when Malfoy swaggers in with a grin on his face and the news that he's the new Slytherin Seeker and will be getting a Firebolt from his father as a reward. Harry stomps out the Great Hall and up to the library, thinking he'll find Hermione and have a chat, but she's so focused on her work that he doesn't have the heart to disturb her, so he just finds a book and settles down to read, unwilling to go back to Slytherin and listen to Malfoy's bragging.

*FPS*

He starts searching the library for information about demons. Seeing the Boggart turn into Crowley had forced him to accept that his time was running out whether he liked it or not and so far he'd done nothing about it. He only had five years left and it didn't feel like it'd been five years since he made the deal. Ten years felt like such a long time when he was seven; now it seemed hardly any time at all. So he searches the library for anything he can find about demons, hoping maybe he'll find something that'll tell him how to escape the death clause in his contract, or at least put it off for a while.

*FPS*

The whole school knows about it when Malfoy's Firebolt arrives because he opens it at breakfast one morning, a massive grin on his face and almost every Slytherin begging just to touch it. Quidditch players from the other houses look sick with envy and at the Gryffindor table Oliver Wood slams a fork into the table before stalking out the Great Hall. It's no secret how desperate he is to win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor now that it's his last year.

*FPS*

Harry melts a cauldron in Potions class at the end of September when Snape grabs his wrist to stop him putting an extra dose of puffer-fish eyes into his Swelling Solution, which would make it boil over and become extremely volatile. Harry's anger at the man hasn't abated at all and his touch precipitates an outburst of magic that has Snape snatching his hand back as though burnt and leaves Harry's cauldron as a twisted heap of metal while the students scramble to get away from the spreading aquamarine solution that would make their feet grow to three times the normal size. Only Harry, being right in front of it, doesn't move quick enough and he has to grab the desk to stop himself from losing his balance as his feet swell. Snape _evanesco_'s the potion and fetches a Deflating Draught from his desk to shrink Harry's feet down before giving him a detention.

"Eight o'clock this evening, my office."

*FPS*

Harry almost doesn't go. He doesn't want to spend any more time in Snape's presence than he already has to, but he knows if he skips it then he'll only get another one, so at eight o'clock he unhappily trudges from Slytherin house to Snape's office, where he's surprised to find not just Snape, but McGonagall as well.

*FPS*

"Have a seat, Mr Evans," McGonagall says. "It's time you and Professor Snape had a talk."

Harry doesn't have to ask what about. He scowls and doesn't move. "Why?"

"Your anger at me is affecting your work and next time you might cause far more damage than big feet."

"Then don't touch me," Harry snaps.

"I was trying to prevent exactly what you caused, you idiot child."

"Like you would care if a potion blew up in my face."

Snape's face twists angrily. "Firstly, you might have some consideration for your friends and classmates; you are not the only person you put in danger. Secondly, do not presume to tell me I don't care about my students."

"Oh, your _students_. So we only matter when we're teenagers, is that it? Who cares what happens when we're kids? That's just—just—weeding out the ones that aren't strong enough to become teenagers and then you give a crap."

"I'm sorry!" Snape yells, getting to his feet, and Harry reels back in surprise. Snape looks down, inhales deeply and lets it out slowly, then looks up again. "I messed up. I assumed your uncle would respond to threats. I made it very clear what I would do if he continued to abuse you and had the police not arrived when they did I would have followed through."

"That was you?"

Snape nods. "I'm sorry," he repeats, calmer this time. "I should have done more to stop him."

*FPS*

"Why did you leave the presents?"

"They were giving you nothing; a child deserves something on their birthday and at Christmas."

"When I was five and I got sick, that was you too, wasn't it? Why did you take you me back?" he asks when Snape nods. It's selfish, he knows; why should Snape have looked after a five year old boy that wasn't his child? But Snape must like him a little if he cared enough to take him in during the summer and help him get his epilepsy diagnosis and everything else he's done, so Harry has to ask. "You took me away; why send me back to that place?"

"You were too ill to be left alone then, but I couldn't look after you, not properly. Albus told me there were protections on the house that he could put nowhere else."

Harry scoffs. "Yeah, protections against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. I'd rather face them than my uncle."

*FPS*

"So there'll be no more exploded cauldrons?" McGonagall asks. Harry notices she's got her wand in hand, as though she expects to need it, and he realises she'd been there to protect Snape if Harry attacked him again. "Regular potion accidents aside, that is."

"I still hate you," Harry tells Snape. "Saying sorry doesn't make up for it. I'm not forgiving you."

Snape nods. "Understandable. As long as you can control your anger around me so that you're not putting yourself or anyone else in danger."

"I'll do my best."

*FPS*

The older years have their first Hogsmeade weekend on Hallowe'en. Harry watches them head off, then wanders up towards the Owlery to see Hedwig, but as he's passing through the second floor corridor, a voice calls his name and he looks back to see Lupin leaning out his office and inviting him in for some tea.

*FPS*

Harry likes Lupin. He's friendly, his classes are interesting, and he didn't treat Harry weirdly after seeing him almost break down during the incident with the Boggart, as Harry had feared he might.

*FPS*

There's a grindylow in Lupin's office, a water demon with long spindly legs which he's procured for his next third year class. It's a weird little creature and Harry watches it pull faces and flex it's legs against the glass while Lupin boils some water for tea.

"How are you?" he asks Harry as he hands him a cup.

"Fine, thanks."

Lupin nods and sit behind his desk, blowing his own tea and then sipping at it before speaking again. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, Harry, but the man that your Boggart turned into—are you in danger from him?"

"No," Harry says. It's only half a lie. Crowley's not a danger to him until he's almost eighteen. He's got five more years before he really has to worry. "I swear, professor."

"Alright," Lupin says honestly. "I would just like you to know that if you ever need help with anything, anything at all, I'm more than happy to assist you."

Harry nods. "There was something I wanted to ask, sir. The horses that pull the carriages up to the school..."

"What about them?"

"You can see them too? Why can't some people?"

Lupin sets down his cup and looks at Harry with sad eyes. "They're called Thestrals. They can only be seen by people who have seen death."

"You mean death like a Reaper?"

"No, I mean seeing another living being die."

"Oh."

*FPS*

There was a lady on the streets once. She was blind and alone and clearly dying so Harry had sat next to her, conjured a shield to protect them both from the pouring rain, and held her hand all night. He'd never made himself visible—there'd been no need—and she'd talked in a weak voice about her daughter, who social services had taken away after the lady lost her job and couldn't afford to pay for their house. The daughter was called Mary and she'd be twelve that year. The lady had never seen her, already blind when she gave birth, but she had an adorable voice with a lisp she hated, loved horses and dolls and dresses, and handled the death of her father with incredible strength.

The lady was dead by dawn. Harry never knew her name.

*FPS*

Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door and when Lupin calls for entry it opens to reveal Snape, holding a goblet of steaming potion. He pauses when he sees Harry, whoinstantly looks down at his tea, ignoring the Potions Master as he set the goblet on the desk and leaves again.

*FPS*

"I'm afraid I'm prying too much, but do you mind if I ask why you dislike Professor Snape so much?" Lupin asks Harry. Harry sets his half empty tea cup on the desk.

"I should go. I have homework to do. Thank you for the tea."

"Of course. Come back any time."

*FPS*

The Slytherins have barely reached the dungeons after the feast that night when Snape turns up and orders them all back to the Great Hall. Confused, they head back and find out that Sirius Black had attempted to break into Gryffindor tower during the feast.

Everyone has to sleep in the Great Hall that night, camping in squishy purple sleeping bags that Dumbledore conjures with a flick of his wand. Harry settles down with Tyler and Cid and they spend half an hour discussing how Black got into the castle and what he was after. Harry mostly just listens and when they finally settle down (after Cid's complained about how uncomfortable sleeping bags are) Harry lies on his back and stares up at the starry night sky of the enchanted ceiling. He's not bothered by the sleeping bags, but he keeps thinking about Sirius Black. He hadn't worried about him before because there are only a handful of people who know he's Harry Potter. He keeps the scar hidden all the time and there probably wasn't anyone who expected the Boy Who Lived to be a half-blind, epileptic, scrawny little boy. They probably thought he was a strong, self-confident young man with a charming smile and skills with a wand that'd awe the common person.

But Sirius Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban and everyone said he was crazy; maybe he didn't care that he didn't know what Harry Potter looked like. It wasn't hard to figure out that he was the right age for a Hogwarts student so if Black was after him, it'd make sense that he might assume that's where he'd find the person who defeated his lord and master. Black wouldn't have any way of knowing which house Harry was in either, so maybe he'd started with Gryffindor, which is where a self-confident young man with a charming smile would likely be placed, and planned to try breaking into the other houses next until he found the boy he simply thought was Harry Potter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The Fat Lady is replaced by a portrait of a knight called Sir Cadogan who, according to Neville and Hermione, is a complete menace who likes to change the passwords often and irregularly and spends half his time challenging people to duels instead of letting them into the tower. Neville particularly hates him; he has enough trouble remembering the passwords as it is.

*FPS*

The first Quidditch match of the season is the following Saturday, between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and the weather's awful. It's raining so hard that they can hardly see anything from the stands, just blurs of colour, and Lee Jordan's commentary is mostly drowned out. Harry stands huddled with the other second years, arms wrapped around him in a pretence of fighting off the cold when he's keeping himself perfectly warm with Wish Magic. He still has to let the rain soak him, but it's not so bad when he's not freezing as well.

*FPS*

He never sees the Dementors. He feels the over-whelming cold sinking into his very bones, completely unaffected by his Wish Magic, and hears the screaming start again, just like last time, with his uncle's voice shouting over the top, and somewhere past that a woman's voice...

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry_!"

"_Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..._"

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead_—"

*FPS*

He wakes up in the Hospital Wing feeling like he's been trampled.

*FPS*

"You were," Cid tells him. He sat in a chair between Harry's bed and the next, in which Tyler's sitting. "Everyone freaked the fuck out when the Dementors came and they started rushing to get away and you got a bit trampled when you started seizing. He threw up on you," he adds, jerking a thumb at Tyler. "Then passed out."

"Sorry," Tyler apologises.

"I wish throwing up and passing out was all I did when they came near me. God, they're horrible."

"You're telling me," Tyler mutters.

"What about the match? Who won?"

"Gryffindor," Cid grumbles, "but Flint and Malfoy are asking for a rematch 'cause of the Dementors. We'll need it—they won by two hundred points—but I don't reckon Dumbledore'll allow it."

*FPS*

"Hey, Tyler, you awake?"

"Yeah."

It's past midnight and only the two of them are left in the Hospital Wing. There's not much light coming through the windows and Harry can only see the vague outline of Tyler.

"When the Dementors come near you, do you... hear things?"

Tyler doesn't answer immediately. He stays silent so long Harry thinks he's not going to answer or has fallen asleep, but eventually he says in a quiet voice, "I remember my mum dying."

Harry inhales sharply.

"It was a fire, when I saw six. Her cigarette lighter exploded. I saw the whole thing."

"That's horrible."

"What about you?"

He doesn't really want to say, but Tyler told his so it's only fair.

"I remember when my—when the burglar broke in and attacked me and... and I can hear my mum dying too."

Tyler shifts in his bed, rolling onto his side to look over at him. "I thought your parents died when you were a baby."

"They did and I don't really remember it, but when the Dementors come near I can hear her screaming. She was killed right in front of me."

"Shit."

*FPS*

Pomfrey keeps Harry in for the rest of the weekend, although she allows Tyler to leave on Sunday morning. When Harry complains, she points out that Tyler hadn't been trampled or had a seizure, merely thrown up and passed out. But Hermione and Neville come to visit him, which he appreciates, especially when they're talking about the Dementors and Hermione mentions that Dumbledore had shot some silvery stuff at them during the match and that Lupin had done the same thing on the train to Hogwarts.

"You could ask one of them to teach you it," she suggests. Harry's not asking Dumbledore to teach him anything, but he likes the idea of asking Lupin.

"Can't you use your Wish Magic against them?" Neville asks.

"Not really. By the time they get close I can't really think properly to Wish anything, and then I have a seizure and I'm completely useless. Unless I was constantly Wishing for an anti-Dementor shield, but I'm not sure it'd really work."

*FPS*

He hangs back after Defence class on Monday and tells Tyler to as well, but the moment he asks about the anti-Dementor spell, Lupin shakes his head.

"That's a NEWT level spell, boys. It's incredibly difficult magic. I wouldn't expect any second year to manage it."

"That blows," Tyler grumbles. Harry says nothing. "It'd be good to be able to ward them off."

*FPS*

Harry goes by Lupin's office that afternoon, alone. He shuts the door behind him and takes the seat Lupin gestures to.

"What can I do for you?"

"On Hallowe'en, you said if I needed help with anything, I could ask you, right?"

"If this is about the Dementors—"

"I can do the spell, professor. Tyler probably can't, but I can."

"You're very confident in your abilities," Lupin remarks.

"Please, sir. Just tell me the incantation and show me the wand movements and I can do it. I need to be able to fight the Dementors. You don't know what it's like when they're near me."

"I can imagine," Lupin says softly. "Dementors makes us relive our very worst memories. For you..." he trails off, gaze flicking to Harry's blind eye.

Harry suppresses a scowl. He doesn't want or need people's sympathy, but if it helps him convince Lupin then he'll put up with it.

"I hear my mum dying," he says, and the twinge of guilt at using her to get what he wants isn't enough to make him stop. "She was killed when I was a baby and I can hear her screaming when they come near me. Please, sir, can you at least let me try the spell?"

It works. Lupin relents. "After Christmas. I have a lot to do before then."

"Just tell me the incantation and I can practice on my own."

"There is more to the Patronus Charm than an incantation and the correct wand movements. After Christmas," he promises. "Then I'll teach you it."

*FPS*

Harry won't wait. He's got the name of the spell now, so he looks it up in the library. It takes a bit of searching but eventually he finds it. He checks the book out and takes it with him to the Room of Requirement, reading the passage yet again and muttering the incantation under his breath then turning to face the centre of the room. For his happy memory, he picks the day in the summer that he visited the Lake District, remember how content he'd been to sit on a boat in the middle of the lake with the sun shining down on him and only the wildlife to keep him company.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

*FPS*

It's not quite enough. He manages to create a silver mist, but it doesn't quite form into a corporeal shape. He picks a different memory from the summer—visiting the Natural History Museum and flying up, invisible, to put Kiwi on top of the T-rex skeleton so he could take a picture—but that doesn't work either. He tries again and again, using every memory he has of the summer, but nothing works. The Patronus refuses to fully form.

*FPS*

The Room provides him with a beanbag and he flops onto it, staring at the ceiling as he thinks. Why wouldn't it work? He had the power, the wand motions were simple enough, and he said the incantation perfectly, which meant the problem was his memories. Were they not happy enough? They were the only happy ones he had. There was nothing happy about his childhood with the Dursleys, nor his time on the streets. His first year at Hogwarts had been alright but it didn't generate anything happy, and the second year he'd spent half of it unknowingly dying and the other half possessed so there was certainly nothing there to make him happy. This August was the only time he'd done anything fun...

That, he realises, is the problem. The summer had been fun, but not happy. He thoroughly enjoyed visiting various places around the country, but it hadn't made him happy. There'd always been the underlying anger at Snape and a pervasive sense of loneliness that he'd never really been able to ignore. Kiwi didn't quite make up for not having any kind parents or friends to keep him company while he was out.

*FPS*

Lupin's surprised when Harry approaches him after his next Defence class and says he won't be needing anti-Dementor lessons any more.

"What made you change your mind?"

Harry shrugs, not looking at him. "You were right. It's too complex."

"You tried it yourself," he realises. "You know, with guidance you may find it a little easier."

But Harry shakes his head, still not looking at him, and Lupin thinks he's not telling him everything. "It's fine. You said you were busy, I don't want to take up your time. Thanks for offering and I'm sorry to bother you."

*FPS*

"Demons? Why are you looking at stuff about demons?"

Harry jumps, turning to glare at Tyler. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I didn't sneak."

"I'm half-blind. If you creep up on my left, it counts as sneaking. Give me that."

He snatches his notebook back from Tyler, who raises his eyebrows questioningly. "Demon deals? That's not for any classes, is it?"

"It's just research. I came across them in another book and wanted to know more. You know I'm a bookworm."

"Yeah, but usually it's history."

"This is history. There's a lot of speculation that notable historical figures made their success as the result of demon deals. Nicolas Flamel for one."

"Who?"

"Nicolas Flamel, the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone, but he's dead now."

"Yeah? Maybe I should make one, make myself super-intelligent so I never have to study again."

"That's not funny."

"Who's joking? Not all of us like pouring over books all the time. I swear you should have been in Ravenclaw."

"You'd sell your soul just so you can not study any more?" Harry snaps, unable to keep the anger out of his voice at how stupid Tyler's being. "You think that's worth dying at twenty-two years old?"

Tyler frowns. "Why would that make me die at twenty-two?"

"Demons don't just buy your soul, they take it to hell. Ten years after you make a deal the hell-hounds come and rip you up and tear you apart so you die and the demon can take your soul to hell and torture you for the rest of eternity."

"Shit. I wouldn't sell my soul for _that_."

The book thumps as Harry closes it and begins gathering his stuff up. "Then don't joke about it."

*FPS*

A few days into December Harry's relaxing in the common with the other second years when the discussion turns to the holidays. Every one is going home, and listening to them talk gives Harry the impression he's going to be one of only very few students staying at the castle for the holidays. This suspicion is confirmed when Snape comes around a few days later with the sign-up sheet for those who are staying, and the only other Slytherin to put their name up is Miles Bletchley, a fifth year. But when Harry gets up to add his name underneath, Tyler grabs his arm.

"That reminds me—I spoke to Marcus about you and he said you can come stay with us for the holidays if you want."

Harry blinks. "I can?"

"Sure. I told him that almost no one was staying and he said I could invite you. It's gotta be better than staying here with Bletchley."

Harry grins. "Thanks!"

*FPS*

Tyler lives in a large house on a small cul-de-sac in Bath. It's one of five houses on the street and Tyler tells him that only three of them are occupied, one by him and Marcus, one by Alex Stone and his parents, and one by a Muggle family.

*FPS*

Tyler's bedroom is in the attic. Harry's surprised to hear that, but when he gets up there it's not the dank, musty room he'd expected, but a wide open space painted in light blue with a double bed in the centre and a desk sitting under the skylight. There's a TV sitting on the dresser and a video player beside it and a CD player sat on top of that. There's a huge poster of a group of women in bikinis on one slanted wall and another poster of a shirtless man in extremely low cut and unbuttoned jeans opposite it. A pile of comics are on the floor—_The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_ mixed in with _Superman_—and Harry notices that _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart is being used to keep the desk level. He thinks the entire room is brilliant, a perfect mix of magic and Muggle.

*FPS*

Harry's set up in the guest room. He's woken the next morning by a persistent banging on the door and when he staggers over to answer it he finds Alex Stone on the other side, grinning broadly while Tyler, who's dressed but yawning and hasn't brushed his hair, stands behind him.

"We're going over to Charlie's house. C'mon, I've got news!"

"Who's Charlie?" Harry asks sleepily, feeling as tired as Tyler looks. When he glances at his watch, he notices it's only just after nine and he and Tyler had stayed up until three that night watching videos.

"She's our friend, a Muggle. She lives next to me, across the street. Come on, get dressed!"

*FPS*

Ten minutes later he's following them across the street. Harry's introduced to Mrs Bennett, a broad woman with lots of curly blonde hair and whose lips purse when she looks at Harry, although she's perfectly polite.

"I don't think she likes me," he whispers as they head upstairs.

"Don't worry, she doesn't really like anyone. Mr Bennett's cool though."

*FPS*

Charlie doesn't look anything like Mrs Bennett. She's slim and her hair is sleek and brown, and she's dressed in jeans and a pink t-shirt when they enter her room, which is almost completely covered in posters of shirtless men and pictures torn out of magazines, and her bed is half covered with stuffed animals. There's also a Jack Russell in a doggy bed in the corner, but he leaps up and comes over to greet them with a wagging tail and yaps when Alex bends down to scratch his ears.

"Harry, this is Charlie," Tyler introduces. "Charlie, Harry. He goes to our school."

"Hi, Harry. Nice to meet you. That's Sammy," she says, waving to the dog, who barks at the sound of his name.

"Hey. Hi, Sammy."

*FPS*

"So what's this news you dragged me out of bed for?" Tyler asks Alex.

Alex looks up from Sammy with a broad grin. "I'm gonna be a brother!"

Charlie squeals.

"Your mum's pregnant?" she cries. "That's so cool!"

"How is that cool?" Tyler asks. "Have you seen babies? They're noisy and messy."

"Oh don't be a poop head, Tyler. This is great news, Alex! Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Don't know yet. They won't find out until mum's next check up. I hope it's a girl. I'd love a little sister."

*FPS*

"That's pretty cool that Alex is going to be a brother."

Tyler grunts, kicking a stone into the small river they're walking alongside, a little behind Alex and Charlie while Sammy charges around snapping at birds and tripping over his own feet.

"You don't think so?" Harry asks.

"I just don't see what's so great about it. Babies are annoying."

"It won't be a baby forever."

"Yeah, well. What do they need another kid for anyway? They've got Alex."

"That doesn't mean they don't want more."

Tyler just grunts again.

"Are you jealous?"

"No! Why would I be jealous?"

Harry shrugs. "Marcus doesn't have a wife and he's pretty old so he can't have any kids to give you a brother or sister."

"I'm not jealous. I don't want some stupid baby sister screaming all the time."

"He'll be at school most of the time anyway," Harry points out. "He's hardly going to see her except at holidays."

*FPS*

Harry enjoys the holiday break. He has fun with Tyler, Alex, and Charlie, who roam around their neighbourhood and walk up by the river or take a bus into town with only a brief yell to their parents to say where they're going. He doesn't see Marcus much as he works a lot and it never seems to be on any kind of ordinary schedule. But Tyler had been right in the summer—he does seem to have a lot of paperwork whenever he comes home.

*FPS*

On New Years, the four of them are hanging out in Charlie's tree house, a massive thing built around the large tree at the end of her garden and which has apparently served as a playhouse since Charlie was five, when Mrs Bennett's voice calls up to them, "Charlie, your friend Johnny's here."

Charlie swears. Tyler whirls to face her. "What's _he_ doing here?" he demands, and Charlie looks guilty.

"Who's Johnny?" Harry whispers to Alex, who's biting at his lip as he watches the other two.

"He went to primary school with us. He used to bully Tyler a lot."

"He's sort of my boyfriend," Charlie admits.

Tyler's speechless. His jaw hangs open as he stares at Charlie, completely lost for words.

"We should go," Alex suggests, grabbing Tyler's hand. "C'mon."

"No, wait. You're going out with _him_?"

"He's not as bad as he used to be," Charlie defends. "And it's none of your business anyway."

Tyler gapes for a minute, then snaps his mouth shut, face turning angry. "Fine. Whatever. I don't care. Let's go."

He yanks open the tree house trapdoor and starts climbing down. Harry follows him, feeling awkward, and Alex shoots Charlie an apologetic look. "He'll get over it."

*FPS*

"I can't believe her," Tyler fumes as they leave the Bennetts' house.

"Tyler, she's right, it's none of our business if she wants to go out with him."

"She's supposed to be our friend."

"She is. That doesn't mean she can't go out with other people."

"But not Johnny Nevins! He's a bully! He picked on me _all_ the time. He picked on her too! Why would she even want to go out with him?"

"I don't know. Look, why don't we go over to your house and watch a film, that new ninja one you got for Christmas? We're going back to school tomorrow anyway. You'll forget all about Johnny by the time classes start."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** From now on, speech that is underlined indicates when Harry is using his Wish Magic.

**Chapter 19**

It takes Harry all of an hour to figure out Hermione and Neville are keeping something from him. He bumps into them on the train back to Hogwarts and decides to join them for the rest of the trip. Tyler's still being grumpy and Harry can only put up with so much of his bad mood, but Hermione's talking too much and Neville won't quite meet his gaze.

*FPS*

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

"What are you not telling me? I know there's something."

"It's nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Then why won't Neville look me in the eye?"

Hermione and Neville exchange a look. Harry's face is set, glancing between them, determined to find out what it is.

"We heard something," Hermione admits hesitantly, "when we were in Hogsmeade the day before term ended."

"Okay. What was it?"

"It was about Sirius Black."

Harry raises his eyebrows, silently asking again, 'What was it?' Neville's staring at his shoes and Hermione looks like she'd rather have all her teeth pulled out without anaesthetic than tell him.

"Well?"

*FPS*

It was Black who'd betrayed his parents, Black who'd got them killed, Black who'd left Harry an orphan.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't touch his dinner that night. He sits at the Slytherin table staring at his plate, not even picking up a knife or fork. He doesn't pay attention to the conversations around him. Everything seems almost dulled, like his ears are full of water. He doesn't notice that Cid keeps shooting him worried looks, or hear Tyler, who's finally chilled out a little, ask if he's alright. When dinner's over, he stands up with everyone else and walks back to Slytherin, still silent, just following the crowd but hardly aware of where his feet are taking him.

*FPS*

"What's wrong with you? Scared the Dementors will get you again?"

Harry's forced to stop when Malfoy plants himself in the way. He looks up at the blond boy, whose smirk fades a little at the utterly blank expression on Harry's face.

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

Malfoy's eyes narrow. Harry's voice is as toneless as his face is expressionless, but Malfoy's not smart enough to see it for what it is. "Don't talk to me like that, you little tosser."

"I said FUCK OFF!"

There are shrieks as the fire in the hearth flares suddenly, sending a blast of heat rushing through the room. Malfoy jumps, glances at it then back at Harry.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Instead of answering, Harry turns around and walks out the common room.

"Hey!" Cid calls. "It's almost curfew, where you going?"

*FPS*

The library's shut when he reaches it but a touch of his fingers has the lock sliding open. He slips inside, completely invisible, and goes straight to the Charms section to pick out the first book he can find on tracking spells.

*FPS*

Three hours later he shuts another book and returns it to its shelf. All the tracking spells say the same thing—to find someone, you need something of theirs. The more personal, the better, and blood or hairs were the most ideal. He has no way of finding anything of Black's, but he isn't about to let the restrictions of wand magic stop him.

*FPS*

He knows he needs to test it first. He takes a blank sheet of parchment and a pair of scissors from Madam Pince's desk and cuts out three arrows about the size of his palm. He writes Hermione's name in the arrow head of one, Snape's in the second, and Black's in the third. He pockets Snape's and Black's and holds Hermione's on the flat of his hand.

"Point me to Hermione Granger," he orders it, focusing his Wish Magic, and it spins and points to his left. He realises the flaw in his plan, thinks for a moment, and then says, "Direct me to Hermione Granger."

This time the arrow points towards the doors of the library.

*FPS*

It guides him all the way to Gryffindor Tower. Satisfied, Harry pockets it, takes out the arrow with Snape's name on, and does it again. When he's standing outside the door he knows leads to Snape's private quarters, he takes out the arrow with Black's name on. Anger bubbles in his chest as he looks at it and the memory of his mother screaming as she dies only serves to make his decision firmer.

"Direct me to Sirius Black."

*FPS*

Only when he feels the prickle of cold across his skin does he realise the terrible decision he's made. He freezes in mid step, lifting his head to stare at the Dementors floating eerily along the boundaries of the school, then he turns and flies back to the castle, his vengeance momentarily forgotten as he thinks only that he needs to get as far away from the soul sucking monsters as possible.

Back inside the Entrance Hall, he looks down at the paper arrow, clenches his fist around it then lets it fall crumpled to the floor as he walks towards the dungeons. There's an empty, hollow sort of feeling in his stomach and he feels like he's failing his parents by not going after the person responsible for the deaths, but he can't get past the Dementors. He promises himself that if he ever gets the chance, he'll kill Sirius Black himself.

*FPS*

Lupin keeps Harry behind after their first Defence class of the new term to tell him he's still willing to try and teach Harry the Patronus charm if he wants.

"Thanks, professor, but it's really not necessary."

"If you're sure. You were so confident you could do it the first time we spoke."

Harry shrugs. "Yeah, well, y'know. Teenagers are cocky like that. Think we can do anything."

Lupin doesn't look convinced, but as he can hardly force Harry to take extra lessons, he lets him go, frowning after him. He hadn't missed the way Harry had been distracted throughout the entire class, not offering answers as he normally did and spending much of the lesson staring almost angrily out the window.

*FPS*

Slytherin only narrowly defeat Hufflepuff in their match on the fifteenth, which takes them out of the running for the Quidditch Cup and leaves Gryffindor almost guaranteed to win.

*FPS*

Half the school is there to witness when Hermione and Ron Weasley get into a duel in the Entrance Hall at the end of January, but no one's entirely sure what it's about. When the teachers have stepped in and they've both been given a week of detentions, Harry pushes through the crowd to catch up with Neville. Hermione's already stormed off.

"What was that about?"

"Crookshanks ate Scabbers so Ron tried to hex Crookshanks."

"Ate who?"

"Ron's rat, Scabbers."

"Well what does he expect, owning a rat? We're not even allowed them, are we? My letter said cat, owl, or toad."

Neville shrugs. "He's had it three years and apparently his brother Percy had it before him. Anyway, I better catch up with Hermione, although she's probably buried in books again. I'll see you later."

*FPS*

A few days later, Gryffindor wipe the pitch with Ravenclaw in their match, securing them the Quidditch Cup even without their last match.

*FPS*

When Harry hears about Black breaking into Gryffindor tower, he's so furious he can't even find it in him to feel bad for Neville—who is in trouble for writing down the passwords that enabled Black to get into the tower—even when Neville goes running from the Great Hall with a Howler from his grandmother, much to the amusement of most of Slytherin. Malfoy, Flint, and the rest of the Quidditch team laugh particularly loudly, desperate for any reason to humiliate the Gryffindors now that they were going to win the Quidditch Cup. But Harry couldn't make himself care. Black had been in the castle, close enough that Harry could have got to him, and he'd got away again.

*FPS*

He makes another tracking arrow the afternoon after Black's break in. This time it takes him in the opposite direction, towards the Forbidden Forest. When he reaches the edge, he stops, wondering if he should carry on or not. He doesn't know how far the Dementors are set up, whether they're just at the gates and boundary of the grounds or if they're in or above the forest as well. It'd make sense, he thinks, even if the forest is supposed to be filled with all manner of dangerous creatures that'd get to Black before he reached the school grounds.

He turns away. It's too risky to go in when there could be Dementors there, but he does get an idea.

*FPS*

Harry knows he has to test it again, before he tries it on Black, so he makes a tracking arrow for Tyler, writing his name in the arrowhead and then in the shaft he writes: 000 feet.

"Direct me to Tyler Lyle. Show me the distance to Tyler Lyle_._"

The arrow spins in his hand but the number remains at 000. He tries several different phrasings and words, but the numbers don't change and he throws it down in annoyance, then picks it up and burns it because he doesn't need Tyler finding it lying around and wondering what he's up to.

*FPS*

Lupin catches Fred and George putting Impervius Spells on the third floor toilets. The Marauders Map falls from Fred's pocket as he's leaving the bathroom and even deactivated Lupin's seen it enough times to recognise it instantly. By the time the twins realise they've lost it, Lupin's already moved on.

*FPS*

"Sir, the other day when you caught us—"

"—improving the boys toilets—"

"—I dropped a bit of parchment. Did you notice it by any chance?"

"I did find a piece near that bathroom," Lupin says with a faintly confused expression, "but it was old and blank so I used it for notes then threw it in the fire when I was done."

The horrified expressions on the twins faces are enough to make Lupin's cheek muscles hurt with the effort it takes to not laugh at them. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out the Map and George slumps with relief while Fred lets out a sigh.

"I'm well aware of what this map is, boys, and in all seriousness, you should have handed it in after Sirius Black first broke into the castle, and I'm astounded that you didn't do so when your own brother was put in danger the last time someone left information lying around the castle. I'm sure you understand I cannot give this back."

*FPS*

The solution comes to Harry at breakfast on the morning of the next Hogsmeade weekend. He upsets his orange juice in his rush to get up from the table and run out the Great Hall after Neville and Hermione.

"Guys! Hold up!"

They pause, turning to face him. "You alright?" Hermione asks.

"You guys are going to Hogsmeade, right?"

"No."

Harry's face falls. "What? Why not?"

"I'm not allowed," Neville says morosely. "Since Black broke in..."

"I don't really need anything, so I said I'd stay and keep him company," Hermione adds. "Why?"

"I need some Interactive Ink _really_ badly. Please can you go and get me some? I'll give you the money for it and I'll keep Neville company."

"What do you need it so urgently for?"

"Just a project I'm working on. I'll pay you for going if you want."

"I don't mind," Neville says.

"Please, Hermione."

"Alright. I need to go back to Gryffindor for my cloak though."

*FPS*

Harry goes back to Slytherin to grab some money from his trunk then meets Hermione back in the Entrance Hall. When she's headed off—now with a shopping list that includes the ink, a quill, and several varieties of sweets—Harry and Neville head out to take a walk around the lake, chatting and catching up. Neville's worried about Hermione; she's taking every available class this year and the strain of the work is finally getting to her. Apparently she spends every evening sat in the common room surrounded by books and snapping sharply at anyone who distracts her.

"I've tried convincing her to drop some classes—she says she doesn't really like Divination and she doesn't need to take Muggle Studies—but you know what she's like. She insists she's fine."

"She probably won't admit she can't handle it until she collapses from overworking or something."

"Exactly and I don't want that to happen, but I don't know what to do."

Unfortunately Harry doesn't have any suggestions for him either.

*FPS*

"Hermione, you're brilliant and I owe you one. Thank you."

She smiles but it's strained. Harry wonders how he hadn't noticed before that she's got dark shadows under her eyes.

"Hermione, you alright?" he asks her. "Neville says you're getting kind of overwhelmed from all your work."

She tuts. "I'm fine, really. I do have a lot of work but it's nothing I can't handle. Honestly."

*FPS*

Hermione hadn't spent long in Hogsmeade and it's only just after two in the afternoon. Harry sits on his bed in the dorm, curtains pulled shut, and makes another tracking arrow for Tyler, scribbling his name and 000 feet on it with the Interactive Ink. This time when he orders it to direct him to Tyler, the numbers change to read 021, and he lets out a delighted laugh. He pushes his curtains aside and climbs off the bed, heading out the dorm and into the common room, watching the number drop to 20... 16... 9... until he's standing right next to Tyler, who's focused intently on a game of chess with Tabitha Sinclair, and the number reads 000 again.

"Can you move? You're standing in my light."

"Sorry," he apologises, heading back to the dorm and watching the number on the arrow increase again.

*FPS*

He makes one for Black and for Hermione, just to double check that it does work, and Hermione's arrow leads him all the way up to the library, the numbers steadily dropping. The number on Black's arrow drops and raises by a few of digits and Harry assumes that he's stationary or at least confined to a small space and it's Harry's movements that are affecting the number. As he's at the library, he finds a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ and finds out how large the school grounds are. Afterwards, he adds an extra digit to Black's arrow, as well as a couple of decimal places, just for added accuracy.

*FPS*

He carries it in his pocket at all times and checks it every few hours, but Black's staying well away from the castle now, presumably realising that it's too risky to try and break in so soon after his last attempt.

*FPS*

Lupin doesn't know what he's hoping for in the times he takes out the map and watches it. He's not sure if he wants to see his old friend's name or not. He doesn't know what he'd do if he did. He hasn't turned on Sirius yet by informing Dumbledore about him, but if he saw Sirius' name on the map, if he knew he was inside the school... he honestly doesn't know if he'd go to Dumbledore or hunt down Sirius himself.

*FPS*

"You're never going to believe what Hermione did."

Harry shoves the arrow into his pocket and turns to Neville. "What?"

"She walked out of Divination. In the middle of class!"

"What?" Harry says again. "Hermione? _Our_ Hermione?"

Neville grins. "I know."

"Why?"

"Professor Trelawney's been predicting my death all year—don't worry, McGonagall says she always predicts someone's death—and Hermione's always said Divination was a load of rubbish ever since our first class. She finally got sick of it, walked right out."

"Blimey," Harry says, impressed. "Go Hermione."

*FPS*

In the Easter holidays the second years finally get to pick their subjects for third year. Harry is the only on who doesn't spend ages worrying over his choices; he already knew he wanted to take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes because he wanted something challenging. He'd previously wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures as well, because it'd be fun to work with animals, but not now that Hagrid's teaching it. Tyler, after a few days, eventually resorts to Eenny Meeny Miny Moe to decide; Cid chooses Care of Magical Creatures then writes to both his parents for advice on a second subject before picking Divination because his mother tells him not to; Jia agonises over her choices, changing her mind every day until the very last minute.

*FPS*

Harry's heart leaps when he checks the tracking arrow on the ninth of April and the distance marker reads 0987.24 meters—within the boundaries of the school

*FPS*

It's the last Saturday before the new term and just after lunch. Harry's in his dorm but he leaps up, ignoring Tyler's look of surprise and Cid asking where he's going as he rushes out the dorm, through the common room and into the corridor. He races up to the Entrance Hall then pauses, checking the arrow, before heading out onto the grounds.

Harry makes himself invisible as he leaves the castle; he wants to be able to sneak up on Black. But as he follows the arrow towards the Forbidden Forest and the number gets smaller and smaller, he wonders if it's broken. It's a sunny afternoon and there's plenty of students milling about the grounds, enjoying the first good weather of the season. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team are practising on the pitch and if the arrow's correct, Black is just beyond the edge of the forest, close enough to be seen if someone passes by.

*FPS*

When he sees the dog, half hidden under a bush as it watches the Hufflepuff team, he pauses but doesn't think much of it. It could easily be a stray from Hogsmeade or someone's dog that's run off, but then he realises the tracking arrow is pointing at the dog. At first he think's something's gone wrong with his magic, that the arrow's definitely malfunctioning, and then it all clicks into place. He's read about Animagi—has thought about trying it himself—and it makes sense. Everyone's looking for a convict, not a dog, and if the Dementors don't affect animals it would explain how Black escaped Azkaban.

*FPS*

He waits until the dog wriggles out from under the bush and turns to head further into the forest then pounces. The dog yelps as Harry wraps his arms around its neck, clinging tightly to hold on as it struggles to get out of his grip.

"I know who you are," Harry says, which makes the dog fight harder. "I'm going to kill you for betraying my parents. Be still!"

*FPS*

The dog freezes but whimpers, making panicked little noises. Harry lets go then spins as he hears a crack of twigs snapping.

"Who's here? C'mon now, yer know students ain't meant ter be in the forest. Out with yer."

Harry presses a hand to the dog and it turns into a small rubber ball. He grabs it and keeps himself hidden and silent as he creeps out the forest before Hagrid comes across him.

*FPS*

He doesn't make himself visible until he's back at the castle, at which point he stops in the middle of the Entrance Hall and wonders what the hell he's doing. He's got a ball in his pocket that's really a dog who might very well be Sirius Black, mass murderer and escaped convict. It's absurd and a manic giggle escapes him. Before he knows it he's leant against the wall, bent over and clutching at his stomach as he laughs.

*FPS*

A little while later Harry wipes tears from his face and tries to ignore the twist in his gut as the humour of situation fades and he realises that he has no idea what he's supposed to do now.

*FPS*

He goes to the Room of Requirement. It provides him with cage in the middle of an otherwise empty room and he puts the ball inside it, locks the cage and the room, casts a Silencing Charm, and then points his wand at the ball.

"_Finite Incantatem_."

The ball turns back into the dog, which turns into a slightly dazed Sirius Black, lying in a heap on the floor. Harry inhales sharply, because until then, he'd never really believed it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Who are you?" Black croaks in a voice hoarse from disuse, looking at Harry through the bars of the cage. "Where am I?"

"My name's Harry Evans, but you probably know me better as Harry Potter."

He lets his scar show and Black scrambles right up to the bars, pressing his face forward to stare at Harry. "Harry? That's really you?"

"Yes, and now I'm going to kill you for betraying my parents."

"I didn't betray them, Harry."

Harry jerks his hand and the bars crackle with electricity. Black yelps painfully, jerking away from them.

"Don't you lie to me. You killed them!"

"I did," Black says, but not gloatingly, not boasting and prideful, just a sad statement of admittance. "I got them killed, but I swear on their graves that I never betrayed them. I wouldn't do that to Lily and James."

*FPS*

"Let me explain. Five minutes, Harry. That's all I ask. Five minutes."

*FPS*

"Can you prove it?" He listened, but he doesn't believe it. Why should he? It sounds like the perfect story to get him to trust Black, leaving him open to the same betrayal his parents suffered.

"Do you really think I'd have spent twelve years in Azkaban if I could prove it?" Black replies, which is a perfectly viable point, but doesn't help him convince Harry. "I need to catch the rat."

"Which you think belongs to Ron Weasley."

Black nods. "Can you help me catch it?"

"Weasley's rat is dead. Crookshanks ate him, so even if you're telling the truth, you can't prove it."

"He's not dead. The cat didn't eat him. Pettigrew faked his death again."

"How would you know?"

"I talked to the cat," Black says like that explains everything. When Harry stares at him, Black adds, "When I transform, I can communicate with other animals. Some of them."

"Uh huh."

*FPS*

"Harry, help me find the rat. Help me prove my innocence."

It wouldn't hurt, not really. If he didn't find the rat, it would prove, beyond a doubt, that Black was guilty and deserved to die. If he did find the rat, he'd kill Pettigrew instead and Black would be free to go.

"If he's really alive, I can find him, but I need to go back to my dorm to do it."

"Let me out. I'll go back to the forest, wait there for you."

Harry shakes his head. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'll turn you back into a ball again and take you with me."

"That's how you got me in here?"

"Yeah, and if you're lying, I'll turn you into a stone and throw you into the lake."

"Definitely Lily's son," Black says with a ghost of a smile. Harry narrows his eyes, flicks his hand, and Black's gone, replaced by a red rubber ball. It flies out the cage and into Harry's hand and he makes sure his scar is hidden again before leaving the room.

*FPS*

Lupin notices them on the Marauder's Map just as they reach Slytherin house, which he checks periodically just to keep an eye on Harry, and any thoughts of taking on Sirius himself flee. If he'd been alone, maybe, but not when Sirius is so close to Harry that their names are overlapping. Lupin might not have been as close to Lily and James in the last few years as Sirius and Peter were—something that saddens him immensely—but he's the only one left that can keep an eye out for the boy.

*FPS*

Dumbledore looks only mildly surprised when Lupin floos into his office, but he quickly turns serious when Lupin shows him the Map and explains the situation.

*FPS*

McGonagall's marking third year essays when Dumbledore's voice calls through her floo, "Minerva, meet me in Severus' office immediately please."

*FPS*

Snape scowls when Dumbledore floos into his office without warning and it deepens when Lupin follows, but when McGonagall appears as well, he gets to his feet. "What—"

"Severus, Harry is in danger. We need to get to Slytherin immediately."

*FPS*

As always, Harry has to test it first. He cuts out two tracking arrows, writes Pettigrew's name on one and on the other he puts _Lily Potter_. He hesitates before he casts the spell. There's a tiny part of him that's hoping it'll respond, that the arrow will turn and point and the numbers will change. He tries to ignore it, but he's still a little disappointed when the arrow sits in his hand, perfectly still, and the numbers read only 0000.

*FPS*

Pettigrew's spins and points to the door. The number read 987.35 feet.

*FPS*

He looks up when McGonagall's voice echoes through the school.

"_All staff and students will go immediately to the Great Hall. All staff and students to the Great Hall immediately please._"

He curses, stuffs the tracking arrow in his pocket and yanks his bed curtains open. Orion and Stuart are in the room as well and look as confused as he is as they head for the door, but when they open it Snape is standing on the other side.

"Out," he orders them, then flicks his eyes to Harry. "Not you."

*FPS*

Harry's gut twists as Snape, McGonagall, and Lupin file into the room. Lupin's got a bit of parchment in his hands that he looks at then looks to Harry then back at the parchment, frowning.

"He should be in here."

"Check under the beds," Dumbledore says, standing guard in front of the door.

"What's going on?" Harry asks as Snape and Lupin start looking under their beds.

"Harry, have you met a black dog today?" Dumbledore asks gently, and Harry feels the blood drain from his face. "Ah, I think that's a yes."

*FPS*

"Did he hurt you?" McGonagall asks, approaching Harry cautiously. "It's alright, Harry, you can tell us what happened."

"How did you know?"

"This map," Lupin answers, frowning at his bit of parchment. "But... it may not be working right, Albus."

"I think it's working just fine, Remus," Dumbledore says quietly without taking his gaze from Harry. "Harry, if Black's threatening you, we'll keep you safe. Just reveal him to us."

"Then what?"

"We'll hand him over to the Dementors like he deserves," Snape answers, and Harry thinks he looks almost eager at the thought.

"He didn't do it."

"Do what?"

"He didn't—" He glances at Lupin, the only one who doesn't know who he is, but Black said he'd been a friend of Harry's parents so he carries on. "He didn't betray my parents. It wasn't him that killed those Muggles."

"We should check him for a Confounding Charm," Snape says. "Possibly even the Imperius."

"I'm not cursed! He didn't do it; it was Peter Pettigrew."

"Harry, Peter Pettigrew's dead," Lupin says. Harry pulls the tracking arrow out of his pocket.

"He's not and I can prove it."

*FPS*

"That means nothing," Snape says when Harry shows them the tracking arrow. "That could merely direct us to what's left of his dead body."

Instead of arguing with him, Harry grabs the arrow with Lily's name on it that's still sat beside his bed and shows him that it's unresponsive. Snape stares at it and says nothing.

"Harry, those numbers—that's how far away Peter is?" Lupin asks, and Harry nods. "That distance is within the school grounds. If he's alive, the Map should show him."

Harry peers at the piece of parchment, watching Lupin move it to show the edge of the school, which is where Pettigrew should be.

"Harry, where is Black?" Dumbledore asks.

"I'll reveal him when we've caught Pettigrew," Harry says without looking up. "I don't trust you not to hand him over. Where can I get one of these?"

Lupin smiles and doesn't answer.

*FPS*

Pettigrew's in Hagrid's hut. Dumbledore and McGonagall try to insist Harry joins the rest of the students in the Great Hall, but Lupin takes Harry's side and says he ought to come with them.

"It's his parents that died that night. He deserves to know the truth more than anyone."

"Severus?" McGonagall asks. "You're his... Head of House."

Dumbledore notices the slight pause and glances at her but doesn't mention it. Snape shifts his gaze from McGonagall to Harry then to Lupin before finally look at Dumbledore.

"I expect if we tried to stop him he'd only creep out after us. We might as well keep him in sight."

*FPS*

McGonagall leaves them to go to the Great Hall. Flitwick and Sprout had already been informed of the situation and told the students and the rest of the staff, and they now sit at their tables, chattering nervously. They fall quiet when she enters.

"Have you caught him?" calls Lisa Patterson, the Head Girl.

"Not yet. Please remain at your tables," she orders, as he hurries up to the staff table. "Is everyone here? No one's missing?"

"All except Harry Evans," Flitwick tells her.

"He's with Severus; he's fine."

"Shouldn't we all be looking for Black?" Sprout asks and McGonagall shakes her head.

"He's cornered. The fewer people the better. For now we'll remain here."

*FPS*

"If we all go in at once, Pettigrew will flee," Snape points out as they approach Hagrid's hut.

"So charm the hut," Harry says. "Trap him inside."

Dumbledore draws his wand and does exactly that. "Severus, Remus, stay here. Harry, with me."

*FPS*

The tracking arrow points Harry to a milk jug. He reaches inside for the rat, who squirms furiously to get out of his grip until he Harry petrifies him. He holds the rat up by his tail, noticing the missing toe that Black said he would have.

"Put him on the floor," Dumbledore says. "If he's an Animagus, there's a spell that will force him to return to his human form."

*FPS*

Pettigrew is short, rat-nosed, balding, and still petrified. Harry hates him on sight.

*FPS*

He takes out the ball from his pocket and tosses it down. Black hits the floor with a grunt, jerks his head up to look around, inhales sharply at the sight of Dumbledore, then growls almost dog-like when he sees Pettigrew and lunges at him, bony hands wrapping around Pettigrew's neck. Harry flicks his hand and unpetrifies Pettigrew, who gags and squirms suddenly under the weight of Black's body.

"Sirius!" Dumbledore yells, but Black's completely focused on Pettigrew. Dumbledore points his wand, there's a bang, and Black's thrown backwards.

*FPS*

Pettigrew continues to choke, squirming on the floor, hands scrabbling at his neck. Harry's gaze is fixed on him. Dumbledore throws a Stunning Spell at Harry but it bounces harmlessly off a shield Harry conjures without even glancing up. The door crashes open and Lupin and Snape charge in. Lupin goes straight to Black's side. Snape stalks past the choking man, standing in front of Harry and grabbing his shoulders.

"Stop it."

"He deserves this!" Harry yells and Snape's thrown back, crashing into Hagrid's table and knocking tea cups to the floor.

Then a blond man appears in front of Harry, removing his dark green cloak and twirling it around to settle, inside out, on Harry's shoulders, and Pettigrew stops choking.

*FPS*

Pettigrew lays on the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. Lupin points a wand at him, conjuring ropes to bind him, then turns his wand on the stranger. Dumbledore does the same and so does Snape when he's pushed himself off the table.

"You!" Harry and Black cry simultaneously.

Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin look baffled. Black and Harry glance at each other then back at the stranger, who shifts to stand beside Harry, grinning and lifting a hand to tap two fingers to his head in a salute.

"Hello, all. I'm the Assistant."

*FPS*

"What have you done to me?" Harry asks in a slightly panicked voice, reaching up to remove the cloak around his shoulders. The inside—now the outside—is light green with darker runes. The Assistant steps behind him and wraps his arms around Harry to grab his hands and hold him in place.

"Magic suppression runes. Help with shielding on the outside, but make a man powerless on the inside."

"Let go of me! Take it off!"

"And let you become a murderer at thirteen years old? I don't think so."

"He deserves it!"

"Oh, I'm not arguing with you, but that doesn't mean you should become a murderer, not to mention if you kill him now, there's no one to verify his story and clear your godfather's name." He pauses, then adds, "You are aware he's your godfather, aren't you?"

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asks and there's a warning tone of danger in the question.

"Like I said, I'm the Assistant. I'm not here to hurt anyone."

"You know him?" Lupin asks Black.

"I've been hiding in a cave in the mountain at the end of Hogsmeade. He was there."

"Always willing to let criminal dogs hang out in my cave," the Assistant says. "I'm nice like that."

"You knew that was me?"

"Course I knew. I know everything."

*FPS*

"The Assistant..." Dumbledore murmurs, frowning, then looks at Harry. "This is the man who told you Professor Quirrell was going after the Philosopher's Stone?"

Harry nods, finally giving up trying to get out of the Assistant's grip.

"Oh, did you save it?" the Assistant asks Harry. "I meant to find out what happened, but there was this girl, y'know..."

"Who are you?" Snape asks. "And don't say the Assistant. What's your name? What are you doing here?"

"I followed Sirius. Have been since he broke into Gryffindor back in February. Never too sure when all this will come to a head, y'know? So I tag after him, do what I have to if need be. Not the most exciting course, this time, but you can't always have it that way, can you? Anyway, I'll stick around until littl'un here has calmed down enough not to kill the rat over there."

*FPS*

Dumbledore decides they all need to go back to his office. They're an odd group—Dumbledore and Lupin leading with Pettigrew, wrists bound, walking between them at wand point; Harry following them, de-cloaked after promising he wouldn't harm Pettigrew and glaring at Pettigrew's back, while the Assistant walks on his left and Black as Padfoot trots along at his right; and Snape follows them all, distrustful eyes flicking between Black, the Assistant, and Pettigrew.

*FPS*

Snape breaks off to slip into the Great Hall when they reach the castle. The students watch in silence as he moves up to the staff table. McGonagall stands and they face each other across it. Although Snape speaks quietly, the hall is so silent that everyone hears him anyway.

"We've got him."

His words are greeted with a thunderous cheer. Only McGonagall doesn't smile.

"Then it's true?" she asks quietly. "It wasn't Black?"

"It appears not," Snape tells her, and it pains him to say it.

*FPS*

In Dumbledore's office, Pettigrew stands nervously in front of Dumbledore's desk while the headmaster sits behind it. Harry stands to one side with Lupin and Black, and the Assistant drops into a chair, fingers linked behind his head and legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Pettigrew tries to claim he's innocent, that Black is still the traitor and he only faked his death to hide from him. No one believes him.

*FPS*

Harry's just leaving Dumbledore's office when Snape and McGonagall get there.

"Dumbledore's calling the Minster for Magic," he tells them. "He said I didn't need to be there for it."

*FPS*

"Albus, I'm going to nip out of sight while Fudge comes," the Assistant says.

"I still want to talk to you."

"I know. I'll still be here," he says, turning invisible, "just unseen."

*FPS*

Fudge is gobsmacked when he floos into Dumbledore's office to find not just Sirius Black but Peter Pettigrew as well. He listens to the story sceptically and when Pettigrew protests his innocence, he looks like he believes it.

"Well, we'll take them both back to the Ministry," he says, gesturing to Shacklebolt and Dawlish, the two Aurors he'd brought with him, "and do a proper interrogation to get behind all this mess."

"You mean you'll hand me to the Dementors and let that rat go free," Black croaks. "You haven't believed a word we've said."

Fudge puffs himself up imperiously. "Why should I believe the words of a convicted criminal?"

Black gives a bark of laughter. "Convicted? Don't you need a trial for that? I was just thrown in a cell and left to rot."

"Surely my word is good enough, Cornelius?" Dumbledore says quietly, and Fudge splutters for a moment before eventually saying, "All due respect, Dumbledore, but you're believing the words of a known criminal. Now you can believe what you will, but the fact of the matter is there's no proof Black's story is true and this poor man deserves a chance to prove his innocence."

Pettigrew nods enthusiastically. Lupin has to grab Black's arm to stop him doing anything rash. Snape's lip curls. McGonagall huffs. Dumbledore merely looks disappointed.

*FPS*

"Minister, if I may," Snape says silkily, "I am more than willing to brew Veritaserum to give to both men so that we might uncover the truth of this matter."

"Severus Snape, isn't it? Well, thank you for the offer, but I can hardly trust a Hogwarts staff member to be unbiased in this issue and Veritaserum cannot be use without the accused's consent."

"I consent," Black says.

"And you can rest assured, Minister, I would like nothing more than to see Sirius Black given the Dementor's Kiss, but I would never tarnish my professional pride by brewing a doctored potion so that I might achieve my own ends."

Fudge and his Aurors are the only ones in the room who believe that.

"I still cannot allow non-Ministry personal to provide—"

"Actually," Dumbledore interrupts, "you can if the accused party or parties request a Potions Master unaffiliated with the Ministry."

"Which I do," Black says. Fudge look furious.

"We will still need to take them back to the Ministry for the interrogation."

"Why?" Dumbledore asks lightly. "We have the Minster of Magic, two Aurors in an official capacity, the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot, the accused, our Potions Master, and two witnesses," he says, gesturing to McGonagall and Lupin.

"One witness," Fudge sneers. "A werewolf has no standing as a witness."

"Then I will gladly call another of my staff members," Dumbledore replies with a warning glance at Black, who bristles at Fudge's word, offended on Lupin's behalf. "Or you may find a second witness of your own. Severus, how long will it take you to brew the Veritaserum?"

"I have some already brewed."

"There you have it, Cornelius. So if you'd like to find a second witness..."

Realising he's been cornered, Fudge nods stiffly.

*FPS*

"NO!"

Pettigrew's cry is followed by the pop of an Animagus transformation and a light thud as the ropes around his wrists drop to the floor. But the rat doesn't get very far—he flies off the floor, squealing in protest as he hovers in mid-air, legs still moving in a useless attempt to escape.

Dumbledore flicks his gaze to the corner where the Assistant's voice last came from then looks calmly at Fudge. "Will you still require an interrogation or is Pettigrew's attempt to flee enough for a conviction?"

*FPS*

Harry goes to the library where he's glad to find Hermione and Neville. Hermione's surrounded by books and busy working on an essay when he gets there but she pushes them aside when he joins them.

"Are you alright? Where have you been? The Slytherins were saying you'd been kidnapped by Sirius Black."

Harry laughs. "I wasn't kidnapped. It was the other way around actually. I've got one hell of a story to tell you..."

*FPS*

When Pettigrew is forced to turn back, he breaks down, begging for mercy and claiming he'd only done it because he was scared. It doesn't help him. Fudge is forced to give Black a complete pardon, effective immediately, although he's advised to lay low until the news is distributed. The words makes him stagger and drop into a chair, shaking with relief and hardly able to believe that he's actually free. McGonagall smiles and Snape leaves with an unhappy scowl. Dumbledore insists that the Dementors be removed from the school immediately.

*FPS*

"You may stay in the castle until you're ready to face the public," Dumbledore tells Black. "I'm sure Remus won't mind a dog accompanying him to his classes."

Lupin shakes his head, a happy smile on his face. "He can stay in my rooms. If you don't mind, that is, Sirius?"

Black looks up at him. "Mind? Course I don't mind, you fool," he says, getting to his feet again to kiss Lupin soundly on the lips. When they break apart, Lupin's blushing redder than a cooked lobster while Black grins. Dumbledore beams.

"Excellent. Well I'm sure you'd like to get a wash, a bit of food, and some rest, so feel free to head off. I need to have a chat with the Assistant, if you'll show yourself please."

There's no response.

*FPS*

Fudge, Shacklebolt, and Dawlish are attacked as they escort Pettigrew to the Dementors. A blond man in a dark green cloak appears from nowhere, introducing himself as the Assistant before overpowering the Minister and the two Aurors with ease and allowing Pettigrew to escape unscathed.

* * *

That Assistant, eh? What a bastard...

Also, because I can predict such accusations coming: although the Assistant appears to exist just to forward certain plot points, he does take on a much larger role after the GOF storyline. (And you'll probably hate him by the end of the fic.)


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Much that he wants to, Fudge has no chance to repeal Sirius' freedom, having several witness to his declaration, two of whom are Aurors. By Monday it's all over the _Daily Prophet_. Sirius is still struggling to believe it.

*FPS*

"What's the deal with Harry, Moony?"

"That's a broad question, Padfoot. Care to narrow it down a little?"

"Well his name, for one. Why Evans and not Potter?"

"After Lily and James died, he was put with Lily's sister, Petunia."

"I know. Hagrid told me when he took him from the house after it happened. She didn't rename him, did she?"

"No, that was Harry's choice. Dumbledore told me a burglar broke into the house when he was about seven and attacked him and Petunia's husband. You noticed his eye? That was because of that. Afterwards he ran away, scared. He changed his name and spent three years living on the streets. No one could find him until he turned up at Hogwarts. Apparently he spent a year hiding in the school before Dumbledore found out and made him an official student, which his why he's a year behind what he should be."

"Seems to me he should be a year ahead. That kid's got power, Moony."

"I didn't know anything about that until yesterday. He picks up spellwork in classes quickly enough but I didn't think anything of it until now."

"Guess it's not surprising. Knew he had to be special somehow to defeat Voldemort."

*FPS*

Dumbledore calls Sirius into his office to discuss the Assistant, hoping to find out whatever he could about the mysterious man, but Sirius has little that's helpful.

"He lives in a cave in the mountain just past the village. I can show you it but he's probably long gone by now. He didn't talk much about himself though. I don't know his real name or where he comes from or anything like that. But you could ask around the village; if he was telling the truth he slept with every woman he could, bought a few back to the cave actually..." He trails off, a gleam in his eye. Dumbledore clears his throat, his own eyes twinkling, and Sirius coughs, not meeting his gaze.

"Yeah, anyway, they might know something. Or you might find _the_ girl. He never mentioned a name," Sirius elaborates at Dumbledore's questioning look. "But I got the impression he was sleeping around to try and forget this bird. Said something about her being in love with an older bloke and he never had a chance, but he loved her anyway."

*FPS*

A week later Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff in the last match of the season, securing them the Quidditch Cup. Oliver Wood looks like he might actually die of happiness.

*FPS*

"So. You're my godson."

Harry nods. It's Sunday afternoon and he's sat in an armchair in the sitting room of Lupin's quarters, Sirius and Lupin on the sofa opposite him.

"I thought you'd look more like James."

Remus stares intently at his tea as he stirs it. Harry squirms uncomfortably.

"But anyway. I wanted to invite you to come and live with us in the summer—"

"Sirius!"

"—but Remus said we ought to get to know each other first."

"I'd like to come live with you," Harry says and both men look surprised.

"You would?" Sirius says. Harry nods.

"I don't have anywhere else to live. My mum and dad chose you for my godfather which means they wanted you to look after me if anything happened, right?"

"What about your aunt and uncle?" Lupin asks. Harry's face darkens and he looks down at the cup of tea in his hands.

"When I was seven my uncle beat me up so bad I ended up in the hospital. He's the reason I'm half blind and have seizures."

Lupin puts his tea down on the coffee table. "Dumbledore told me a burglar did that."

"Dumbledore's a stinky, rotten liar," Harry declares, and Sirius' lips quirk, but his amusement doesn't last. "He knew it was my uncle and he still made me go back."

"He did WHAT?"

*FPS*

Lupin has to physically restrain Sirius from storming out his quarters and up to Dumbledore's office. Sirius might be free but the students would still panic if they saw him tearing through the castle in a fury.

"I'll kill him. What the hell was he thinking? You never should have been put with them in the first place. Dumbledore _knew_ Lily's sister hated magic, we all did. He'd better have a damn good explanation for doing this. James must be rolling in his grave..."

Harry quite enjoys watching Sirius pace, ranting angrily on his behalf. It made him feel more sure of saying he wants to move in with him. While it's true he's desperate for somewhere permanent to live, it doesn't mean he fully trusts Sirius. He's still almost a stranger to Harry, someone Harry had been almost willing to kill only a week ago.

*FPS*

His attack on Pettigrew had been one thing, done in anger and fury, and afterwards when the adrenaline and shock had faded, he found himself shaking and stunned at what he'd nearly done. He could have killed Sirius plenty of times between when he caught him and when he got to Slytherin house. He could have turned him into a stone and tossed him into the lake so he sank and drowned when the spell wore off. He could have turned him into a flower and torn him apart. He could have just Wished him dead. But he hadn't and when he thinks about it, he doesn't think he really could have either.

*FPS*

"Will you teach me how to become an Animagus?"

Sirius grins. "Absolutely! You should find it easy enough, given your power."

Lupin frowns suddenly. "Harry, when you said you didn't want Patronus lessons anymore, I assumed it was because you'd failed it; was I wrong?"

Harry drops his gaze, smile fading and hands fiddling with the edge of his robes. "No," he mutters.

"That's alright, we'll teach you that too," Sirius says.

"You don't need to do that. The Dementors are gone now; I don't need to know it."

"It's an important spell, kid, you should know it."

"No, really, I don't—"

"It's alright," Lupin interrupts gently. "You can learn it another time. You can focus on the Animagus transfiguration for now. It's more exciting anyway."

Harry shoots him a grateful smile.

*FPS*

Despite Lupin's words, the exciting part of becoming an Animagus doesn't happen until he actually starts learning to transform himself, which he can't do until he's found out his inner animal, which requires a great deal of meditation. Not that he really minds. He hasn't meditated since making his deal, and sitting in quiet with his eyes shut and letting his mind relax, he wonders why he hasn't. It makes him feel good and helps relieve some of his stress, which, he muses, would probably help with his seizures too.

*FPS*

An hour later when he finds himself on the floor of an empty corridor with Draco Malfoy bent over him and the taste of vomit in his mouth, he wonders if this is what he gets for daring to think he could reduce his seizures anymore than what his potion does.

"Alright there, Evans?"

"Fine," he mutters, pushing himself up, then looking surprised when Malfoy takes a handkerchief from his pocket and holds it out.

"For your mouth. Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing? I'll walk you up."

Harry gets to his feet and takes the handkerchief, wiping saliva and specks of vomits from his mouth. "I'm fine. Why are you being nice to me?"

"I'm always nice."

"No, you're not. You're an arsehole."

Malfoy looks offended. "Just because we have some differences of opinion doesn't—"

"Differences of opinion? That's how you describe being a racist prick?"

The offence turns to annoyance. "I could have just left you here to choke on your own puke, you know. I didn't have to stick around and clean up your mess."

He scowls, cheeks going red, and mutters a thanks. Malfoy accepts it with a nod.

*FPS*

"Were you heading back to the common room? Come on then," he says when Harry nods, then when Harry looks at him questioningly he adds, "Your bracelet says you shouldn't be left alone afterwards."

"You mean my tacky bracelet?"

"It is tacky. Useful, but tacky. You could have at least brought a tasteful one."

"What do you care?"

"You're a Slytherin. We have a reputation to uphold."

"As fashionistas?"

Malfoy scowls. "As classy."

"Right, because Crabbe and Goyle are the epitome of classy."

Malfoy waves a dismissive hand. "The exception, not the rule. But you've got money so even as a half-blood you should be presenting yourself well."

"How do you know I've got money?"

"That trunk of yours wasn't cheap and I've seen you wearing some fairly decent robes. It's not hard to figure out."

Harry stops walking. "You tried to break into my trunk?"

"No."

"Liar. Why did you try and break into my stuff?"

Malfoy shrugs, turning to the bit of wall that marked the entrance to Slytherin. "Serpent's tail. If you ever need fashion advice, feel free to ask me. I don't charge much."

Harry snorts, following him into the common room. He wasn't taking any kind of advice from Malfoy and he certainly wasn't paying for it.

*FPS*

Sirius tells him he's supposed to mediate until he falls into a spirit trance which will make him feel like he's leaving his body and moving into that of his Animagus form, giving him a chance to familiarise himself with it, after which he'll have to research the animal and it's biology so he can know what to expect when he does the transformation. But although Harry's able to slip into a meditative trance, he doesn't experience anything like an out of body experience.

*FPS*

"Morning, Evans."

Harry turns on the bench, looking at Malfoy. "Uh... morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I guess. Why are you asking me that?"

"Merely being polite. Perhaps you should try it sometime. Enjoy your day."

Harry stares after him, thoroughly confused, then turns to Cid and Tyler.

"I think my hearing's going. Did he just tell me to enjoy my day?"

"Yes," Cid says, stabbing a hashbrown with his fork. "Maybe he wants to fuck you."

Harry gapes. Tyler frowns. "How did you get that from 'enjoy your day'?"

"Why else would he be nice to him?" he asks around a mouthful of food. "This is Malfoy we're talking about."

"What makes you think he's even into boys?"

Cid shrugs and swallows. "Why shouldn't he be?"

"Well, no reason, I guess. But don't people normally have a reason for thinking someone's gay before saying things like that? It's not like he's camp or anything."

"So? Just as much chance of him being gay as there is of him being straight."

"Yeah, but..."

"Is this some Muggle hang-up? Straight until proven otherwise or something like that?"

"What do you mean a 'Muggle hang-up'? I was raised by a wizard."

"But in a Muggle neighbourhood. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Well... yeah, I guess."

Cid shakes his head and takes a slice of bread to mop up the left over baked beans sauce on his plate. "Fucking Muggles. Crash course, you pair of half-wits, assumptions like that will get you hexed in the wizarding world. No one cares about your sexuality here. Also, Harry, shut your mouth, you're catching flies."

Harry snaps his mouth shut. "He does not want to have sex with me. He doesn't even like me."

"Doesn't have to like you to want to fuck you."

"We're thirteen!"

"You and him are nearly fourteen," Tyler points out.

Cid looks amused. "Are you saying you wouldn't have sex with someone right now if you had the chance just because we're not legally old enough?"

"Uh... I, um... I don't know."

"The answers no," Cid tells him. "You would have sex if you had the chance because sex is awesome."

"You don't know that."

"Course I do. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone says that. You've never done it though. Have you?"

"He wishes," Tyler says, and Cid scowls. "And we all know who with."

"Shut up," Cid snaps, but he glances down the table at where Tabitha sits with the other girls.

*FPS*

"Well hang on," Harry says when they're walking to Transfiguration later. "How is it that a bunch of people so obsessed with blood purity don't care about sexuality? What happened to continuing the blood lines and all that stuff?"

"Arranged marriages for producing heirs while keeping lovers on the side," Cid answers easily. "That's what people like the Malfoy and Devaux family would do. Others would just use adoption and surrogate mothers. It's really not a big deal; I don't know why Muggles would make an issue out of sexuality."

*FPS*

Lupin's not at breakfast on the sixth of June when Malfoy's eagle owl brings him a letter from home, which is probably a good thing.

"Lupin's a WEREWOLF?!"

*FPS*

"Why do you have to leave just because everyone knows?"

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents... They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry."

"But you're the best Defence professor we've ever had."

Lupin smiles but says nothing. Padfoot huffs and noses Harry's hand and he scratches him behind the ears.

"We'll see you in the summer," Lupin says when he's finished packing up. "Sirius will pick you up from the station when term's ended. You can spend the time normally in my classes meditating for the Animagus transformation."

Padfoot barks his agreement and Harry nods, giving him one last pat on the head before they both head off.

*FPS*

"Morning, Ev- ow! What the... why the hell is there a pin on the bench?"

Several people snigger. Harry continues to eat his breakfast, acting like Malfoy isn't even there.

"Did you do that?" Cid asks him.

"Why would I put a pin on the bench?"

"It's Malfoy," Tyler says as though that's reason enough. Harry glances at him.

"I'm not psychic. You think I can predict where that prat's going to sit?"

*FPS*

But every morning for the rest of the term, Malfoy would sit down and get stabbed by a pin, even when he carefully checks the bench beforehand.

*FPS*

"Did you know about this?" Harry asks Neville, who shakes his head, and Harry looks back at Hermione. "Why didn't you tell us you had a Time Turner all year?"

"McGonagall made me promise not to, but I've handed it in now. I've dropped Muggle Studies so I can have a normal schedule next year. It was driving me mad trying to get to all my classes like that."

*FPS*

"Have fun at your aunt and uncle's this summer," Tyler says to Harry when the Hogwarts Express pulls into King's Cross station. "You can come visit again if you want."

"Thanks, but I'm not living with them anymore. I'm moving in with my godfather."

"You never mentioned you had a godfather."

"I only met him recently. He's been in jail for a few years."

"For what?"

"Murder, but he didn't do it."

"You're sure about that, right? I'd hate for you—"

"Merlin's fucking underpants!" Cid cries, looking out the carriage window. "Sirius Black's on the platform!"

Tyler whirls to gape at Harry, who just grins and grabs his trunk, dragging it out the compartment and towards the door.

*FPS*

"You all set, kid?"

"Yep. How are we getting to your house? Where do you live?"

"In Gloucestershire, and we'll be taking my bike."

"A motorbike?"

Sirius grins. "Better than that. A _flying_ motor-"

"I'm so glad to see my dear wife's cousin walking free," interrupts a voice behind Sirius. Harry leans sideways to look around him and sees a tall, blond man with steel grey eyes and a sneer. By his side is Malfoy, but Harry didn't need to see him to know that they were related.

"Lucius," Sirius says, turning to face him. "How is Narcissa? Still a stuck-up bitch?"

Lucius hardly reacts to the insult but Malfoy's face twists angrily. "Don't speak about my mother like that!"

"Calm down, Draco. The poor man spent twelve years in prison; he can hardly be blamed for forgetting basic manners."

Malfoy nods, but continues to glare at Sirius.

*FPS*

"And who's this young man? Surely he's not _yours_."

"I'm—"

"I'm looking after him as a favour to Dumbledore," Sirius interrupts, squeezing Harry's shoulder in a silent command not to correct him.

"I see. What do your parents think of you living with a former prison inmate?" Lucius asks Harry.

"They're dead," he says bluntly. "So they don't really care."

"Ah. My sincerest sympathies for your loss, Mr...?"

"Evans," he finishes, and Sirius' hand tightens on his shoulder. "Harry Evans."

Lucius' lips curl into a smile that makes goosebumps rise on Harry's skin and he holds out a hand. "Lucius Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry shakes only because it'd be rude not to, but he doesn't return the sentiment.

"Have you met my son while you're at school?"

"He's a Slytherin as well, Father. A year below me."

"Excellent. Always a delight to meet a fellow snake," Lucius says, pretending he doesn't notice the way Sirius bristles at his words. "Might I ask how you know the infamous Mr Black? It seems odd to me that a man fresh out of prison would be asked to care for a child not related to him."

"Like he said, it's a favour to Dumbledore. I don't really know him, but it's him or my Muggle family."

"Ahh, I quite understand," Lucius says smoothly. "Well, we really must be off. It was good meeting you, Harry. Good day to you both."

*FPS*

"How did you end up in _Slytherin_?" Sirius asks as he shrinks Harry's trunk down to pocket-size before they head through the gate to Muggle London. "You're not a snake."

"It's where the sorting hat put me," Harry says defensively. "And there's nothing wrong with it. Not everyone's like Malfoy."

Sirius glances at him, some of the annoyance fading from his features. "Sorry. I didn't really think... well, I'm sure it's just fine."

"Why didn't you want me to say you're my godfather?" Harry asks, changing the topic.

"Malfoy knows I was friends with James. If he knew you're my godson, he'd likely make the right assumptions about who you really are."

"Is that why you almost broke my shoulder when I told him my name?"

"Sorry about that, but yeah. It shouldn't matter too much. He was a seventh year by the time we started at Hogwarts and Lily was a Gryffindor so he's not likely to remember her maiden name, especially when it's Potter that everyone thinks of when they think of her. You'll be fine. I wouldn't worry about it."

Harry thinks that'd be a lot more convincing if Sirius had looked him in the eye when he said it.

*FPS*

Sirius' bike is _awesome_. They ride it through London but when they get out of the city Sirius turns off onto a small road, Harry Wishes them invisible, and Sirius flicks a switch, hits the throttle, and Harry whoops and clings tighter as they lift into the air.

*FPS*

Black Stag House is a reasonably-sized three bedroom place just outside of Coleford, right near the Forest of Dean. Sirius tells him that he owns a large house in London that used to belong to his parents, but he hated it growing up and he refuses to live there even now.

*FPS*

"You still have this?"

Harry's chest tightens as Sirius picks up Kiwi from the trunk sitting open at the end of Harry's bed. He wants to snatch her from him. Sirius might be his godfather but Harry still hardly knows him and Kiwi is _his_.

"You know Lily gave you this, your first Christmas," Sirius says, and Harry's chest is suddenly tight for completely different reasons. "You were barely bigger than it. You were such a tiny little baby."

He smiles wistfully at her for a moment then puts the bear back in Harry's trunk, gently placing her on top of everything else. "Remus is making Spaghetti Bolognese for dinner, should be ready in fifteen minutes."

Harry nods, not trusting himself to speak, and when Sirius has left the room he lunges over to the trunk and snatches Kiwi up, squeezing her tightly and hearing that soft female voice whisper, "I love you, Harry."

All the years he'd pretended it was his mother and now he knows it is. In that instant any connection Kiwi has to Snape vanishes. Kiwi came from his mum and she's the only person Harry wants the bear connected to.

*FPS*

"Have you had any luck yet getting into a spirit trance?"

"No," Harry answers Sirius grumpily. "I've been trying. I read a couple of books in the library about it, but I can't seem to get there."

He's also pretty sure that trying is giving him more seizures, but he's not certain and he's not about to mention the possibility when it could be nothing.

"There's a potion you can try. It'll force you into the trance. You can always give that a go."

"Do you know how to make it?"

"Not off the top of my head, but we managed it in fifth year. I'm sure I can manage it now."

*FPS*

The potion takes a week to brew and when it's finished it's pale yellow and sickeningly sweet. Sirius says that it should pull him out of his body and put him in that of his inner animal, as meditating would only much faster and less smoothly. But within seconds of drinking it Harry feels like he's being crushed, like his body has suddenly become too small for his soul, or his soul too big for his body. He can't breathe, can't move, can barely think for the crushing pain consuming his entire being.

*FPS*

Sirius is startled when Harry starts seizing immediately after drinking the potion. Lupin stops him from trying to hold Harry down and keeps a hand on his arm as they wait for it to stop, but five minutes later it's still happening and Lupin calls for an emergency response healer.

*FPS*

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Sirius, it's fine. Calm down."

"Calm—Remus, they're sticking needles—"

"It's _fine_. It's just a way of getting the potion into him when he can't swallow it."

"We'll be portkeying him to the emergency ward. You can floo directly there and an orderly will be able to assist you; please bring a sample of the potion he took for analysis. Transporting in three, two, one..."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"What the hell have you two idiots done to him?"

Lupin frowns and Sirius scowls, getting to his feet as Snape approaches them. "What are you doing here? This is nothing to do with you."

Snape comes to a halt a few feet from them, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm his primary medical contact; the healer's called me. What happened?"

"Why the hell are _you_ his medical contact?"

"Because Muggles aren't accepted and there was no one else to do it. _What. Happened?_"

"He took a Spirit Trance Potion," Remus answers, cutting of Sirius from responding. "He started seizing immediately; it lasted for eleven minutes and they had to inject him with an anti-convulsant to stop it."

"And of course neither of you two morons thought to check whether the ingredients caused seizures or reacted badly with his regular medication."

"Harry checked them," Lupin says, coldness creeping into his voice. "He said they were all fine and that the potion wasn't listed as one he couldn't take."

"You made it yourself? Then you probably screwed it up," he snaps when Lupin nods. "This is why criminals and werewolves shouldn't be trusted with children."

Lupin has to grab Sirius' hand to stop him going for his wand and hexing Snape. "I don't see _you_ taking responsibility for him," Lupin says coolly and Snape's gaze narrows.

"Why would he? He'd probably try and poison him," Sirius growls. "I'm not letting him anywhere near my godson."

Snape smirks. "As I said, I'm his medical contact. All it takes is a word from me and _you'll_ be the one who's not allowed near him."

"You fuck-"

"Sirius, stop it. Don't rise to his bait. Just sit down."

"Moony—"

"_Sit down_."

Sirius scowls but drops back into the chair, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, I guess we all know who the bitch in this relationship is," Snape drawls.

"Give it a rest, Severus," Lupin growls.

*FPS*

"He's stable and seems to be recovering fine. I've done an EEG and forwarded the results to Healer Karpel. She'll take over from me when she's looked at them. For now, Harry just needs to rest, but you can go in and see him."

*FPS*

Sirius goes straight in, hardly even noticing that Lupin doesn't immediately follow him.

"So you won't tell him who you are but you'll make yourself his medical contact?"

"He doesn't need to know and it's really no concern of yours, is it?"

"He hates you. Why would he agree to it?"

"As I said, it's no concern of yours."

Lupin nods. "Fine. But Sirius is his legal guardian now, not the Dursleys, and when that's confirmed he'll automatically become the primary medical contact."

Snape doesn't look pleased with that, but he says nothing.

*FPS*

"You alright there, kid?"

"Yeah, just sleepy."

"You scared me a bit back there."

Harry smiles tiredly. "Sorry. But I'm okay."

"You're in the hospital."

"It's fine, really. The healer said it just went on too long?"

"That's what Remus told me. They said more than five minutes could be dangerous."

Harry looks at him curiously. "Are you worried?"

"Can't say I'm happy having you in the hospital a week after you move in with me."

"I'm okay, Sirius, I mean it. The healer said my EEG looked normal to him."

"He also said he was sending it to someone else for a second opinion."

"It's just Kirith. She diagnosed my epilepsy; he probably had to send it to her. You don't have to worry."

"I'm your godfather, kid. It's my job to worry about you."

*FPS*

"Why is Snape your medical contact?"

Harry scowls. "Is he here?"

"He's outside, yeah."

"Apparently my aunt is still my legal guardian even though I'm not living with her, but the hospital won't accept a Muggle as a primary medical contact and Snape was the one looking after me so—"

"_Snape_ was looking after you?"

Harry nods. "After Dumbledore sent me back to the Dursleys, Snape came to take me to Diagon Alley and afterwards he let me stay with him while we got my medical stuff sorted, then I stayed at Hogwarts with him at the beginning of last summer until I found out he knew my uncle was hitting me when I was kid and he didn't do anything about it."

*FPS*

Years of being bullied as a teenager and more years hanging around Death Eaters had given Snape a enviable reaction speed, and only that stops him from being hexed when Sirius crashes out of Harry's hospital room.

"SIRIUS!" Lupin yells, leaping up and putting himself between the two men as Snape's shield falls away. "What the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

"HE KNEW!"

"Knew what?"

"That Harry was getting smacked about as a kid. He knew and he did _nothing_."

Lupin whirls and Snape can't quite stop himself from taking a step back. "Is that true?"

"I threatened them. I tried to make them stop."

"You threat-"

"Gentlemen, do I need to call security?"

*FPS*

"I think that would be wise, Healer Karpel," Snape says, his eyes on Sirius. "Or perhaps the Aurors. Black clearly isn't fit to be in public."

"I'm not leaving that kid alone with you for even a second, Snape. You even try and go near him and you'll be the one laid up in a hospital bed."

"Mr Black, I don't know why you're here but if you continue to threaten Professor Snape I will call security and have them escort you off the premises."

Snape smirks. Sirius grits his teeth, turning to the healer. "I'm Harry's godfather. I've got more right to be here than Snape."

Kirith looks surprised, then frowns. "I see. His file will have to be updated with that information, however for the time being Professor Snape is still Harry's primary medical contact so if I could ask you both to step into his room and we can discuss the EEG results."

"No way," Sirius says. "He let Harry get beat about as a kid. He's not going anywhere near him."

Kirith's eyes linger on Snape for a moment. "Are there any official charges against you for child abuse or endangerment?"

"I'd hardly be employed as a teacher if there were."

Kirith nods. "Excuse me a moment."

She steps into Harry's room, shutting the door behind her, then comes out again after a couple of minutes and speaks to Sirius. "Harry does not appear to be fearful of Professor Snape nor has he shown any signs of abuse or fear of him in the past, and he has agreed to allow him to be present for our conversation. I have never seen anything that causes me to suspect that Professor Snape might be abusive, neglectful, or in anyway a danger to Harry. If you still have concerns about him, you will have to make an official complaint to child services. For now, he has as much right as you, if not more, to be involved in Harry's health care."

*FPS*

Other than a brief glance when Snape enters, Harry acts like his Head of House isn't even there, just focuses on Kirith as she talks. Snape remains standing by the door and Sirius moves to take the chair by Harry's bed.

"Your EEG is normal and I've got a report from the folks in the lab saying they analysed the sample of potion and it was clean and brewed correctly."

"That's a miracle," Snape mutters and Sirius glares.

"We'll keep you in over-night but if you don't have another seizure before morning, you'll be free to go. I do advise against taking the Spirit Trance Potion again as it does appear to have been a trigger, but if you do decide to, I recommend doing so with a healer present and purchase the potion from a licensed Potions Master rather than brewing it yourself."

*FPS*

"Mr Black, if you'll come with me I can give you the forms necessary to register yourself as Harry's next of kin."

"I'd like to remain on file as a medical contact," Snape says as Kirith turns to leave and Sirius gets to his feet, "and continue to be involved in his treatment."

"Not bloody likely."

"I want him to," Harry says.

"Why?" Sirius asks incredulously. Snape's equally surprised but hides it better.

"He's been involved since the start. He knows the most about my epilepsy and medication. I don't like him but he did help me get all this done, so he can stay as my medical contact."

"Thank you," Snape says honestly. Sirius looks like he wants to strangle him. Kirith considers Harry.

"When I've fetched the forms for Mr Black, do you mind if I have a private word with you, Harry?"

"Okay."

*FPS*

"Lupin, I want a word. Without your pet dog present."

"Go fuck yourself, Snape," Sirius retorts, then looks at Remus as he gets to his feet. "You're not actually going to talk to him?"

"Someone here needs to act like an adult."

*FPS*

"You might want to at least try to be civil, Severus. He's godfather to your son, and no I haven't told either of them so don't bite my head off."

Snape's lip curls into a sneer. "I'm not the animal around here."

Lupin sighs. "What did you want, Severus?"

"I will brew you the Wolfsbane. You can come by my house to collect it the week before the full moon."

Lupin looks surprised. "I'm grateful for the offer, but I'm aware that Wolfsbane is expensive and given my current unemployment..."

"It wasn't an offer, Lupin. You're living in the same house as Harry. Take the potion or I'll be the one contacting child services."

"I can't pay you."

"Then get Black to or consider yourself in my debt. Either way I expect to see you in a week."

*FPS*

"Is everything okay?" Harry asks Kirith when she shuts the door behind her.

"I just wanted to talk to you about these accusations Mr Black is making about Professor Snape."

"It's nothing, really. It doesn't matter."

Kirith moves over and perches on the edge of Harry's bed. "If Snape is being in anyway abusive..."

"What? No! He's not abusive. That's ridiculous."

"Can I ask why you dislike him then? In our previous appointments you've always seemed perfectly happy in his company. I just want to make sure that you're not being frightened into keeping him involved with your healthcare or anything else. If he is doing anything inappropriate then child services needs to be informed and so does Albus Dumbledore."

"I'm not," Harry promises, and when Kirith continues to look sceptical he sighs. "It's just... last summer I found out he knew that my uncle was hitting me but he didn't do anything. I mean, he said he threatened them and tried to make them stop, but he didn't take me away or anything. Not that he should have," he adds quickly. "He's not related to me or anything so he shouldn't look after me, but... it's just stupid and selfish anyway, but I hate him for not doing something more. Telling someone that could have helped."

"It's perfectly understandable that you feel that way," Kirith says gently. "Did you ever tell anyone what your uncle was doing?"

"My teacher once. They called Muggle social services but my aunt and uncle said I was a liar and I didn't want to go to an orphanage so I told them I just fell over and stuff."

"You preferred to stay with your uncle than go to an orphanage?"

Harry merely shrugs.

*FPS*

"I'm reporting him to child services."

Lupin watches Sirius pace. Kirith is still talking to Harry, and Snape's left. "Do you plan to report Dumbledore as well?"

Sirius pauses in mid-step to frown at him. "Why would I report Dumbledore?"

"He forced Harry back to the Dursleys despite knowing that they were abusive and had caused permanent damage to him. If you report Severus for something that happened years ago, you need to report Dumbledore as well. I think we also ought to hear Severus' side of the story first, and keep in mind he's just offered to brew the Wolfsbane entirely out of concern for Harry."

Sirius snorts and continues his pacing. "If it was out of concern he would be doing it for free. Anyway what's there to hear? He knew what that good-for-nothing Muggle was doing and he did nothing about it."

"He said he threatened them. We don't know what happened, Sirius. Severus is a teacher; reporting him to child services could ruin his career no matter what the end verdict."

"Good. He deserves it."

"This is not a reason for you to wage your personal war against him, Sirius," Lupin says sternly. "Dumbledore won't be pleased if you get his Potions professor fired, and you might consider Harry's feelings on the matter as well."

"He won't care if Snivellus gets fired. He hates him."

"He likes him enough to keep him involved in his healthcare. I mean it, Sirius. I understand why you want to report him, but this is not one of those things you can go charging into without considering the consequences. If you're going to look after Harry properly, you have to think about how he'll be affected by everything you do."

Sirius sighs and drops into the chair beside Lupin, leaning his head on Lupin's shoulder. "You're going to bring up seeing a shrink again, aren't you?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Sirius. You spent twelve years in prison; only an idiot would expect you not to have some issues to work through."

"Yeah, but a _shrink?_ I'm not a whack-job, Moony."

"I'm not saying you are. There are plenty of sane people who see psychiatrists."

Sirius huffs. "I'll think about it."

Lupin smiles and turns his head to press a kiss to his dark hair. "Thank you."

*FPS*

Lupin returns home but Sirius stays at the hospital for the night despite Harry's assurances that he's fine and doesn't need babysitting.

*FPS*

Harry gets home the next morning to find a letter waiting for him. When he opens it, he's surprised to find it's from Malfoy, asking how his summer's going, discussing how he'd spent the past week relaxing and flying, complaining about all the homework he'd been set, and generally acting as though they were good friends. Harry writes a brief reply saying only, _We're not friends. Why are you writing to me?_

*FPS*

They're eating dinner a few days after his seizure when Sirius asks, "Harry, do you want to report Snape?"

"Report him for what? To who?"

"Child services for being a neglectful slimeball."

It takes Harry a minute to figure out what Sirius is talking about. "Why would I report him for something that happened ages ago? It's not like they can do anything about him now."

"It's evidence that he's not fit to be looking after kids."

Harry sets his knife and fork down and frowns at him. "Are you trying to get him fired?"

"Of course not," Sirius says unconvincingly. "But if he happened to lose his job would that be a terrible thing?"

"Yes," Harry answers immediately. "I don't like him either, Sirius, but that doesn't mean we should get him fired, not over something that happened years ago and has nothing to do with Hogwarts."

*FPS*

Malfoy writes back saying he'd like to be friends. Harry responds saying he isn't going to be friends with a racist prick who got his favourite teacher fired, and asks why he's trying to be friends now when he was perfectly content to dislike each other before.

*FPS*

Lupin doesn't like taking money from Sirius for the Wolfsbane, but Sirius had insisted that there was no way either of them would be in Snape's debt and they both agreed that however much they hated the other man, taking the Wolfsbane was in Harry's best interests.

*FPS*

"Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Um... I was just... I was wondering..."

Lupin turns away from washing up, grabbing a tea towel to dry his hands on as he looks at Harry, who's standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at the floor. "Is everything alright?"

"I, um... canIstayatafriend'shouseduringthefullmoon?" he says in a rush. "It's not—I know you're taking the potion and you won't be dangerous and you're going to be locked in your room and Padfoot—"

"It's fine," Lupin interrupts, giving a reassuring smile when Harry glances up. "Of course you can stay at a friend's house."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I understand, Harry; werewolves are scary. Trust me, I know," he says with a sardonic smile. "I'm not offended. I'd rather you be honest with me than sit in your room feeling scared. Who are you going to stay with?"

"I'll ask Tyler. He said I could come over at some point."

*FPS*

"Marcus, can Harry come over on Monday and stay for a couple of nights?"

Marcus doesn't even look up from his paperwork. "Fine, just don't forget I've got Lucius Malfoy coming over on Tuesday morning."

"I know. We'll go round Alex's or something. Thanks!"

*FPS*

Harry floos into Tyler's house on Monday afternoon with a backpack holding his overnight stuff.

"Thanks for letting me stay. Sorry it was such short notice."

Tyler waves his hand dismissively. "It's cool. Do you wanna dump your bag then we can go see if Alex wants to go down to the river?"

"Sure. Hey, did his mum have the baby yet?"

Tyler scowls. "Yeah. Little Jessica. You'll probably meet her when we go over. Alex thinks she's the greatest thing ever but I just find her boring and annoying. She screams a lot."

*FPS*

Jessica isn't screaming when they get there. The minute they step through the door Mrs Stone warns them to keep quiet because she's just put the girl to sleep.

"Oh good," Tyler says cheerfully as they head up to Alex's room. "We might not get dragged to see her then. Oh, by the way, you remember Charlie who lives next door?"

"Yeah."

"Don't mention her to Alex. She turned into a bitch and we had a massive argument and he's still upset about it."

"Okay. What did you argue about?"

"Alex told us he's gay and she started spouting all this homophobic bullshit. We always knew her parents believed that stuff but Charlie never seemed too. Anyway, like I said, just don't mention her."

*FPS*

Tyler's overly hopeful. Alex begs his mum to let them creep into the nursery so Harry can see Jessica, and Alex grins proudly as they stand over the crib. She's sort of cute, Harry thinks, this little pink bundle with fine blonde hair and her tiny fingers curled loosely against her palms. He can't see what Tyler has against her, but he figures he probably can't judge when he's only seen her sleeping and not heard her crying and screaming.

*FPS*

"Is Marcus friends with Mr Malfoy?" Harry asks when Tyler tells him why they'll be making themselves scarce the next day.

"They're not friends-friends, just political friends. Lucius Malfoy donates a lot of money to the Ministry so Marcus kind of has to pretend to like him. We probably wouldn't see him anyway, 'cause they'll stay in Marcus' study, but I'd rather not be here when he is, not if he's anything like Draco."

"He's been writing to me this summer."

"Draco Malfoy?"

Harry nods. "He says he wants to be friends."

"_Why_?"

"Dunno."

"Maybe Cid's right. Maybe he does want to fuck you."

"Shut up, no he doesn't. If he wanted that he'd be... I don't know. Sending roses and chocolate and doing whatever people do when they want to go out with someone."

"Roses and chocolate are for girls. Do you even like boys? You've never said anything about it."

Harry shrugs. "I dunno. I've never really had a crush on anyone."

"At all?"

"No. Is that weird?"

Tyler thinks about it for a while then shrugs. "I don't know. You've never wanted to kiss anyone? What about Jia?"

"No. She's nice, but..."

"Tabitha? She's pretty, although Cid would probably curse you if you did."

"Not really," he says, feeling uncomfortable.

"What about Malfoy? I know he's a prick but you've got to admit he's kind of good looking."

Harry looks at him in surprise. "You're gay?"

"Bi. I was actually going out with Charlie for a couple of weeks at the start of the summer before she turned into a bitch."

"Oh," Harry says, not sure how he's meant to react to that, but as he remembers the poster of the bikini clad women on one wall of Tyler's bedroom and the shirtless man on the other, he realises it probably should have been obvious.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Harry sleeps late the next morning and get's woken by Tyler shaking his shoulder. "Get up. We've got company."

"We do?"

"Malfoy."

"Oh right, yeah." He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "You said we wouldn't have to see him."

"I mean Draco."

That gets Harry's attention. "Why's he here?"

"Apparently their house has a bundimun infestation and they all have to leave the house while the exterminators deal with it and his mother's off visiting friends or something. Either way, we're stuck with him for a few hours while Marcus and Mr Malfoy do whatever it is they do. He's up in my room and I probably shouldn't leave him alone for long. He might break the TV trying to turn it on or something so come up when you're dressed."

*FPS*

When Harry gets to Tyler's room, Malfoy's standing in front of Tyler's TV, staring transfixed at a wildlife program, but he looks around when he hears the door shut.

"Hello, Evans."

"Thought you hated all things Muggle."

He glances back at the TV. "I'm not convinced this is Muggle. Only magic could make pictures move this long and create sound."

"It's called a program," Tyler says. "And it's completely Muggle."

"It's not even repeating itself," Malfoy says, as though he hadn't heard Tyler. "That's some impressive spellwork."

Tyler just rolls his eyes.

*FPS*

"Are we still going out?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, I'm not changing our plans just because he's here."

"What plans?" Malfoy asks.

"We're going to see a film. The Lion King. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. You should ditch the robes though."

Malfoy stares at him.

"I don't think he understood anything you said," Harry says with a smirk. "Poor little pureblood."

Malfoy scowls. "I'm far from poor and you can't talk about little. You're still short enough to be a first year."

It was Harry's turn to scowl. "I'm not," he says, although he is smaller than the other two.

"Whatever," Tyler says. "Malfoy, take your robes off so we can go."

Malfoy stares at him. "Excuse me?"

"Robes. Off. The Muggles will stare at you otherwise."

"You want me to go out where there are _Muggles_?"

"Yeah, I do. Or you can sit in our living room on your own for a few hours, 'cause we're not staying in just for you."

"Fine," Malfoy grouches, unbuttoning his robes. "Where exactly are we going?"

"The cinema. Don't ask, we'll explain on the way."

*FPS*

Tyler has Muggle money to pay for the tickets and when Harry says he'll pay him back later, Tyler waves him off. Malfoy doesn't even offer.

"You guys want popcorn? Sweets? Drinks?"

Harry peers around the people ahead of them in the queue. "I haven't had Muggles sweets in ages. You mind if I have some M&Ms and a coke?"

"That's fine. Malfoy?"

Malfoy, who's trying not to look like he isn't hopelessly baffled by the posters on the walls of the cinema foyer while also trying to avoid being touched by anyone, looks at Tyler. "What?"

"Food, drink. You want any?"

Malfoy looks at the sweets on shelves behind the counter and the drink dispensers, nothing of which he recognises. "Whatever Evans is having, but if I get poisoned by some weird Muggle food I'll sue you and the people who run this place."

*FPS*

Malfoy makes a fuss about sitting in the cinema chairs, claiming they're filthy and "probably carrying all kinds of diseases" but Tyler grabs his arm and pulls him down. He immediately stands up again.

"I want to sit between you two. I'm not sitting beside some horrid Muggle."

They decide not to argue with him and Harry shifts down a seat. Malfoy sits, muttering unpleasant things about Muggles the entire time. Harry's worried he'll talk all through the film, which would not only be annoying but probably get them thrown out, but from the minute the first song starts, Malfoy's gaze is fixed on the screen and the only time he speaks is to tell the young couple in front of them to shut up.

*FPS*

Later when they're walking back to Tyler's house, Malfoy grudgingly admits that he enjoyed the film a lot, but threatens to hex them both if they tell anyone at school or his father.

*FPS*

The walk back to Tyler's takes them along the river and they're halfway back when they come across a group of teenagers lounging in the grass beside it. Tyler scowls when he sees them but says nothing, and Harry notices Charlie among the group with her Jack Russell, Sammy. Tyler pretends not to notice them as they walk past, but Sammy sees him and comes tearing over, tail wagging with the boundless cheer that dogs were known for, uncaring that his owner is no longer friends with Tyler.

"No, Sammy, go away. Shoo, go on."

"Sammy, come here, boy!" Charlie calls and Sammy runs back to her, but one of the boys, who's stripped his shirt off and has a cigarette between his lips, looks over with a nasty grin and calls, "Hey, faggot, off to have a big gay orgy?"

"Fuck off, Johnny," Tyler calls back, and there's sniggers from the rest of the group.

*FPS*

"I'd invite you to join us," Malfoy says in his best drawl, "but I wouldn't put my dick in any of you filthy Muggles."

"Malfoy! Shut up, just—"

"The fuck did you call me?" Johnny says angrily, getting to his feet. A couple of others do as well and Tyler swears. Harry doesn't blame him. Johnny isn't much taller than Malfoy, but he's got clearly defined muscles along his torso and arms and could probably beat the crap out of all three of them. His two friends are equally well built and one of them is at least a head taller than Malfoy and twice as wide.

But Malfoy looks at Johnny with his usual haughty expression. "I called you a Muggle. It means you're a dirty-blooded ape who ought to be grateful I'm even deigning to talk to you."

"I'll show you grateful, nancy boy," Johnny says, tossing his cigarette down and putting it out with his heel before advancing with his fists clenched.

"We should run now," Tyler says, backing up. Harry nods his agreement but Malfoy stands his ground. He lifts his hand towards his chest then realises his not wearing his robes and doesn't have his wand, and his face pales. Johnny notices and grins.

"Get 'em."

*FPS*

Harry can't help it. The moment Johnny's big friend comes close to grabbing him, he thrusts a hand out and the boy is thrown backwards like he's been hit with a truck. Johnny already has Malfoy on his knees and sporting a bloody nose, while Tyler's pinned to the grass and shouting mercy as his arm is twisted behind his back. The other kids are cheering Johnny and his friends on and when Harry pushes the big one back a few more get to their feet with the obvious intention of joining in the fight.

"Stop!" Harry cries, and everyone in the vicinity freezes. "Oh crap."

*FPS*

He spends a minute panicking before he decides on a plan of action. He goes to Tyler first, pushing away the boy who's pinning him down. He falls over like an action figure, still frozen stiff, and Harry touches a hand to Tyler, who jerks to life in mid shout then realises he's not pinned anymore and scrambles up, turning and looking at the frozen figures.

"Whoa..."

"I'm fixing this," Harry says.

"You did this? Fuck. The Ministry's going to be on us any minute."

"No, it's fine. Just... give me a sec."

*FPS*

Tyler watches as Harry goes to Malfoy, unfreezing him. Malfoy gets to his feet, wiping his bloody nose and looking around at the still frozen Muggles.

"Are you doing this?"

"Yeah, just stand over there. I need to sort this out."

"How are you going to sort this out? The Ministry's going to expel you for this—you could get arrested, using magic against Muggles."

"It's fine, just stand over there!"

*FPS*

Tyler and Malfoy stand to one side. Harry stands just a little in front of Johnny and inhales deeply then lets it out slowly, and Wishes them all to unfreeze.

"What the..."

"Go back to your friends," Harry orders. "sit down and forget you ever had a fight. All of you forget you ever saw me or Malfoy or Tyler. You never saw us and none of you tried to attack us_._"

Tyler and Malfoy's jaws drop as the other teens do exactly that, returning to their friends and the group continues talking as though nothing had ever happened.

*FPS*

"How did you do that?"

"Tell you later. They can't see us, so come on."

"What do you mean they can't see us?" Tyler asks, but follows Harry down the path.

"We're invisible."

"That's funny because I can see us," Malfoy says.

"I'm letting you see us. Just shut up, both of you."

*FPS*

They pass through a narrow alley to get onto Tyler's street. Harry stops them both in the middle of it, glancing to check there's no one coming even though they're invisible, and reaches up to touch Malfoy's face, Wishing the blood away and his split lip healed then drawing his hand back. Malfoy blinks, touching a finger to his mouth.

"How—"

"You hurt?" Harry asks Tyler.

"Sore shoulder, but I'm fine. What—"

"Forget that we had a fight. Forget that we saw those other teenagers. Forget that you saw me do magic_._"

*FPS*

"Hey, you okay?" Tyler asks Harry.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're shaking."

Harry glances at his hands, realising Tyler's right, and shoves them into his pockets. "I'm fine."

"Are you going to have a seizure?" Malfoy asks, rubbing at his nose and wondering why he feels like he's been punched.

"No, I'm okay, really."

"Well, we're back now so if you do at least it's not in the street."

Harry forces a smile and follows the other two boys into the house.

*FPS*

"It's been nice having you, Harry."

"Thanks, Marcus."

"Feel free to come over again. About this time next month?" he suggests with a knowing look in his eye.

"Oh. Um, yeah, thanks. Bye, Tyler."

"See you."

*FPS*

Lupin is looking tired and pale but he greets Harry with a smile and asks how his visit was. Harry returns the smile, tells them about the Lion King, and doesn't mention the fight. He does mention Marcus' offer though and the knowing look that came with it.

"You asked to stay with him for the night of the full moon and at short notice," Lupin says with a wry smile. "It wouldn't be hard for someone to make the connection. I wouldn't worry about it, Harry."

*FPS*

_I didn't mean to get Lupin fired_, Malfoy writes in the next letter he sends Harry. _But the truth would have come out eventually and we're all better off without a werewolf teaching us. _

And Harry can't really argue with Malfoy not wanting a werewolf in the castle with him when Harry had been too scared to stay in the house during the full moon.

*FPS*

He mentions the Lion King to Hermione in his next letter to her. She responds enthusiastically, saying she'd been to see it as well and thoroughly enjoyed it, then goes on for a page about all the Muggle things she misses when she's at Hogwarts.

*FPS*

"Oh that's not fair!"

"What's not fair?" Sirius asks, pausing as he walks past Harry's open bedroom door. Harry spins in his seat.

"Malfoy has tickets to the Quidditch World Cup!"

"Didn't you tell him to stop writing to you?"

"That's besides the point. He's got tickets—and he's invited me to go!"

"Ah," Sirius says. "He really wants to be your friend."

Harry moans unhappily. "This is... it's a trick. It has to be. He can't do this to me!"

Lupin appears behind Sirius. "Who can't do what?"

"Malfoy sent him an invitation to the World Cup."

"Did he? Well that's not an opportunity you should pass up."

"But if I go that means I accept his offer of friendship."

"Is that really such a terrible thing?"

Both Harry and Sirius stare at him. "It's _Malfoy_," Harry says. "He got you fired. He calls Hermione a Mudblood. You taught him for a year, you know what he's like."

"I know he was raised by prejudiced parents, likely around children who were also raised by prejudiced parents, and the only way to battle those kind of attitudes is to show them that the things they hate aren't as terrible as they think. Befriending you could be a start towards changing Draco's attitudes."

"Or it's a ploy to try and change Harry's attitude," Sirius says, frowning. "I really don't think it's a good idea for him to be hanging about the Malfoys, Moony. If Lucius figures out who he is..."

"He wouldn't hurt me, would he?" Harry asks, glancing between the two men and realising that they knew something about Lucius Malfoy that he didn't. "I know he's into all that pureblood stuff, but... I mean, I'm a half-blood, not a complete Muggleborn."

"You're also the Boy Who Lived," Sirius says, "and Malfoy was a big supporter of Voldemort back in the day."

Harry looks down at the letter in his hands. Lupin steps over, crouching down in front of him. "Harry, he wouldn't hurt you. Whatever Lucius Malfoy is, he's not an idiot. If you want to go then I think you should, but it's your choice."

"I don't think you should go," Sirius says, "but Moony's right: Malfoy probably wouldn't hurt you and it's your choice. But if you do go, I'm giving you a portkey that'll bring you straight back here if you need to."

"I'll think about it," Harry tells them.

*FPS*

He spends half the night thinking about it, lying in bed and staring at his ceiling, and it's three in the morning before he realises that for every reason he can think of to not go, he finds some way to explain it away. Malfoy's a git, but he's clearly trying to be friendly and as Lupin said, that could be the start of changing his attitudes to Muggleborns. The Malfoys might figure out who he is, but they might not. Lucius was a Death Eater, but Voldemort's gone now, living as some disembodied spirit somewhere. Lucius might attack him for being the Boy Who Lived if he found out, but Harry's more powerful than Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort so Lucius Malfoy was no threat to him.

And behind all that there's a massive desire to see the World Cup match. Other people might say it's a once in a lifetime opportunity for most people, but for him it really is. He's got four years until his ten years are up. Why shouldn't he do something enjoyable while he's got the chance?

*FPS*

His second visit to Tyler is less eventful than the first, for which Harry's grateful.

*FPS*

He wakes with a start on Saturday, the day he's going back home. His scar is burning painfully and he rubs it, sitting up and trying to remember the dream he'd just had. Voldemort had been in it, he was sure of that much, and Peter Pettigrew, and an old man, but he can't remember the details, nor is he sure why his scar hurts so much, like someone has pressed a white-hot wire to his forehead.

*FPS*

The next day he's standing in his living room at home while Sirius turns his medical bracelet into a portkey.

"Just say Prongs and it will activate, bring you straight back here, alright?"

"I _know_. And I shouldn't let myself be left alone with Mr Malfoy. If he tries to hurt me I have permission to use magic against him. Don't trust Mrs Malfoy, no matter how nice she is. You've told me all this, Sirius."

"Are you sure you want to go? We can find something else to make up for missing the World Cup."

"I'm going, Sirius. I'll be fine, I swear. I've got the portkey _and _I can Apparate _and_ I can defend myself if someone attacks me."

Sirius frowns but doesn't say anything more.

"We'll see you in a few days," Lupin says, smiling at him. "Have fun."

*FPS*

He's greeted in the Malfoy Manor sitting room by Draco and his mother. Narcissa is a harsh-looking woman with blue eyes and blonde hair, and Harry thinks she looks surprised to see him, but it passes and she smiles, her face softening. She holds her hand out to Harry when he's finishes brushing soot from his clothes.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she introduces. "It's nice to meet you, Harry."

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs Malfoy. Thank you for having me," he says. Her eyes fall on his bracelet when he shakes her hand and he wonders if she shares Draco's opinion that it's tacky.

"Are you ill?" she asks.

"I have epilepsy. It means I have seizures."

Narcissa smiles gently. "I know what epilepsy is. I was a healer before I had Draco."

"Oh," he says, flushing. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"I wouldn't expect you to. Draco will show you to the room you'll be staying in tonight."

*FPS*

The guest room he's staying in is bigger than his bedroom at home and Draco's room is even larger than that. He's only got one poster on the wall, of the Holyhead Harpies, and everything is spotlessly clean and tidy (a huge difference to Tyler's room, which was perpetually messy, or Harry's own, which he only tied when it got _too_ messy). His books are carefully arranged on the shelves, there's not a single sock discarded on the floor, and there isn't so much as a crinkle in his bed sheets.

*FPS*

"I thought we could go flying, seeing as we'll be watching professionals tomorrow. You can borrow my old Comet Two Sixty."

Harry hesitates and Draco raises an eyebrow.

"You _can_ fly, can't you?"

"You going to catch me if I fall?"

"Are you really that terrible?"

"No," he replies with a scowl. "But if I have a seizure..."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose that would be bad."

"You 'suppose'," Harry mutters, rolling his eyes. "Is that what you'll say when I've fallen to my death? 'I suppose it was a bad idea'."

"Do you want to go flying or not? I'll stick close if that's what you need, though it's a dreadful way to fly a Firebolt."

"We can go. But just so you know, if I fall off and you don't catch me, I'm going to haunt your bedroom for the rest of your life."

*FPS*

Harry doesn't fall but Draco keeps his word and flies close. The Comet 260 is miserable compared to the Firebolt, but it's still the best broom Harry's ever ridden and as soon as he gets on it he can feel the difference compared to the Shooting Stars he used at Hogwarts.

*FPS*

"So, Harry, you're starting your third year this September, correct? What subjects are you taking?" Lucius asks him at dinner that evening.

"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Only two?"

"I wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures as well, but then Professor Hagrid started teaching it..."

"Ah," Lucius says, "I quite understand. A terrible decision of Dumbledore's. If you struggle at all with Ancient Runes, I'm sure Draco won't mind assisting you in your studies. It's one of his better subjects."

"Thank you, Father."

Lucius hardly glances at him. "What are your best subjects?"

"Charms and History of Magic."

"What do you plan to do for a career?"

"I haven't really decided," Harry says, wishing he'd stop asking so many questions, no matter how harmless they appear to be.

"You've got plenty of time to choose," Narcissa says. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Read, mostly. I'm a bit of a book worm."

Narcissa smiles. "As am I. I do enjoy a good book. It's an excellent way to relax, don't you agree?"

He nods and despite Sirius' warning about Narcissa's niceness he finds himself warming to her.

*FPS*

Draco gives him a tour of the manor later that evening, showing him rooms, pointing out portraits of his more notable ancestors, and giving him a history of the house.

"That's Father's cellar; we're not allowed in there. Over there—"

"Your father has his own cellar?"

"It's just to separate it from the wine cellar in the kitchen, but there's nothing in there. I sneak in every few years just to check. I don't know why he forbids me from going in, it's completely empty. Anyway, this is my uncle Tiberius. He died when I was nine. Tried to keep a dragon in his basement, burnt the house down. Shame really, he gave great birthday presents..."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"It's rather small," Lucius says as he flicks his wand to set up their tent in the campsite, "but we will make do for one night."

Harry bites his tongue and doesn't comment on the fact that the tent looks like it's barely big enough for one man, let alone the four of them, but when it's erected Narcissa immediately steps through the entrance flap and disappears. Draco follows her and Lucius gestures for Harry to do the same. He's glad he hadn't said anything when he finds himself inside a house the size of his home with Sirius and Lupin; of course magical tents would be bigger on the inside, he realises.

*FPS*

Their tickets put them in the top box with the Minister of Magic and they're the last ones there. There's several other important Ministry personnel there and filling half the row in front of them is the Weasley family, all except Molly Weasley.

"Good lord, Arthur," Lucius says softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Mr Weasley doesn't react to his comment except for his ears to turn bright red. Ron, Ginny, and the twins glare at Draco (who glares right back) and Harry (who ignores them) and then they take their seats just before Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and one time Beater for the England national team, comes rushing into the top box to introduce the game.

*FPS*

Harry looks at Draco oddly when he sticks his fingers in his ears as the veela walk onto the pitch, but forgets all about him when they start dancing, instead staring transfixed at the beautiful women and thinking that he'd fly out onto the pitch and show them some of his magic. He might not be much to look at but he could charm the pants off any of them if he just—

"Good Lord! Sorry, folks, just a sudden infestation of butterflies in the top box. That is odd."

Harry blinks and glances up, seeing that Bagman's right.

"Is this part of the match?" Ginny asks her father in front of them.

"I... don't think so."

Everyone in the box is equally surprised and Harry quickly schools his face into a similar expression of shock and Wishes them away.

"And they've gone," Bagman says. "How very bizarre. But now please kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

*FPS*

The match is incredible. The fliers are better than anything Harry's imagined, zooming around the field and executing moves that leave the entire stadium in awe. The Irish team in particular are amazing but the Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, makes Harry wish more than ever that he could play Quidditch. He wants to be able to fly like that.

*FPS*

The next time the veelas start dancing, Harry takes Draco's lead and shoves his fingers in his ears and shuts his eyes. The last thing he needs is to let his magic get out of control.

*FPS*

Ireland win, although Krum catches the snitch. Harry and Draco leap out of their seats cheering, not even noticing the dirty looks Lucius gives them or the glance Narcissa gives Lucius that silently tells him not to berate them for their behaviour.

*FPS*

Harry and Draco spend the walk back to the tent avidly discussing the match and the players. When they get back to the tent Narcissa magics up some hot chocolate for them both and only then do they realise Lucius isn't there.

"Where's Father?"

"He joined some friends of his, darling. I'm going to go and join him. You two boys can look after yourself for a short while, but try not to stay up too late. We've got one of the earliest portkey's home in the morning."

*FPS*

A short while turns into a couple of hours, which turns into a couple more, then there are screams coming from outside their tent and when they investigate, a group of wizards has the campsite's Muggle owner and his family flying in the air above them, controlling them like puppeteers.

"We should get to the woods. Come on."

Harry follows Draco to the woods, where they stop just beyond the treeline and stand watching the growing group of wizards. Harry wants to help the Muggles, but he doesn't know how without potentially putting them in more danger or angering the wizards below, who might move on to hurting other people.

"Scared, Evans?"

Harry glances at Draco, whose arms are folded over his chest as he watches, leant against a tree looking perfectly relaxed.

"No."

But he glances at his bracelet. If ever there was a time to use it... but he can't just run away. He probably shouldn't leave Draco alone, for one, even if he does look almost bored with what's going on. He could offer to take him with him, but he's not sure Sirius and Lupin would appreciate him bringing Draco back to their house, and Draco probably wouldn't want to leave when his parents were still here somewhere.

*FPS*

"Do you think..."

Draco glances at him questioningly. "What?"

"Your parents. Are they out there?"

Draco looks back to the large group. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Is this the kind of thing you agree with? Torturing Muggles?"

"This isn't torture. It's just... a bit of fun."

"A bit of fun? You think _that's_ a bit of fun?" he asks, pointing at the child that was spinning like a top, their head flopping limply from side to side. "That kid can't be more than seven."

Draco doesn't look at him. "They're just Muggles."

"They're people just like us."

"Muggles aren't like us. We're better than them. They're just... they're just Muggles."

*FPS*

Harry doesn't get a chance to argue further. The sky above them is suddenly lit up by a bright green skull with a serpent protruding from it's mouth. Harry's mouth goes dry and screams erupt from the woods around them. Even Draco turns pale at the sight of it.

"The tent—" he says, then he running out the woods. Harry follows him and when they get there, Lucius and Narcissa are already inside, both pale faced. Narcissa grabs Draco and hugs him.

"Get your things, we're leaving. Quickly."

"How—?"

"We'll side-along Apparate you."

*FPS*

Harry grabs his bag, which only needs zipping up before he shrugs it onto his shoulders. When Lucius reaches for his arm, Harry jerks away.

"I have an a emergency portkey. I'm going home."

"Fine. Draco."

Draco shoots Harry a look that he can't decipher in the second before the three Malfoys disappear with a pop, but he doesn't linger.

"Prongs," he says, and his stomach jerks.

*FPS*

The next thing he's aware of being sat on the sofa at home, feeling the familiar post-seizure fatigue while Lupin sits beside him and Padfoot's at his feet, head resting on Harry's thigh.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asks, and Padfoot lifts his head and whines.

"There were Death Eaters," he says, and suddenly it's Sirius sat at his feet and Lupin looks startled. "After the game, there were Death Eaters torturing this Muggle family and the campsite got trampled and then the Dark Mark showed up."

Lupin inhales sharply. Sirius is pale.

"Were you hurt?"

Harry shakes his head. "We hid in the woods."

"Why didn't you come back sooner?"

"I didn't want to leave Draco alone. His parents were... they weren't there."

*FPS*

He doesn't sleep well that night. He lays in bed with Padfoot curled at the end, thinking about the dream he'd had three days ago and how his scar had burned when he woke. Now, thirteen years after it'd last been seen, the Dark Mark had shown up. What did it mean? Did it mean anything or was it just a coincidence? But the last time his scar had hurt like that was when he'd fought with Quirrell over the Philosopher's Stone when Quirrell had been possessed by Voldemort. Voldemort definitely hadn't been anywhere near him three days ago, so why had it hurt? And why had the Dark Mark shown up so soon afterwards?

*FPS*

They go to Diagon Alley a few days later to buy his school supplies. He needs new school robes and has to get some formal dress robes as well. It would be alright if people didn't keep stopping to stare at Sirius, still gossiping about him even months after his innocence had been proven. Harry eventually Wishes for them all to just not notice him; it's not quite invisibility, but it stops the staring and the whispers.

*FPS*

When he's packing the night before the train goes back to Hogwarts, Sirius bounds into his room and hands him the Marauders Map along with his signed permission slip for visiting Hogsmeade, while Lupin stands in the doorway with an indulgent smile.

"So you can carry on your dad's legacy," Sirius says, "Do you remember how to work it?"

Harry nods, taking the map with a grin. "Thanks. Does this mean if I get in trouble I can blame it on you guys?"

"You can blame Sirius," Lupin says. "No one will doubt he's been encouraging you to get into mischief."

Sirius gasps in mock offence. "What are you trying to imply, Moony?"

"I'm not implying anything, Padfoot. I'm stating outright that you're a terrible influence on the next generation."

"Well, it's a hard job, but someone's got to do it."

*FPS*

They're late getting to platform nine and three-quarters and most of the compartments are full by the time Harry gets onto the train. He stows his trunk and walks along the carriages. When he finds Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the doorway of a compartment, taunting someone, he doesn't think much off it until he hears Hermione's voice.

"Either explain what you're going on about or go away, Malfoy."

"Don't tell me you don't know," Malfoy says gleefully. "My father told me ages ago, heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself, but then my father's always been associated with the top people at the Ministry. Oh, Evans," he says, noticing Harry, "did I tell you about what's happening at the school this year?"

"No, and I don't care either. Hermione, can I sit with you guys?"

"You're not sitting with _us_," replies Ron Weasley's voice. Harry can't quite see him past Crabbe's hulking form. "We don't sit with scummy Slytherins."

"You shouldn't degrade yourself by sitting with Mudbloods and blood traitors anyway," Malfoy says with a sneer. "You're welcome to sit with us."

"I don't want to sit with the son of a Death Eater," Harry snaps. "Or anyone who thinks they can call my friend a Mudblood."

He turns, walking away and thinking he'll just keep looking for Cid and Tyler, but Malfoy grabs his shoulder.

"I thought we were friends."

"We weren't friends, Malfoy. We might have been taking steps along the path to one day becoming friends, but then you showed the kind of person you really are and it's not someone I want to be friends with. I don't know why you decided you were going to try and befriend me in the first place, but just don't bother, alright?"

*FPS*

He eventually finds Cid and Tyler sitting with Alex Stone, and a girl who Cid introduces as his sister, Layla. Harry's surprised by her; he knew they were only half-siblings but the only similarity in their appearances is that they both have dark hair. Cid is tall, broad, and very obviously of Mediterranean descent, whereas Layla is small, pale, and delicate. She looks like a strong wind would knock her over, but her face is cheerful and she clearly adores Cid as much as he cares for her.

*FPS*

Harry's forgotten about Malfoy by the time they reach Hogsmeade. It's pouring with rain when they get there and they're soaked within seconds. Cid removes his cloak and puts it over his sister and then insists on accompanying her over to where the other first years are joining Hagrid, leaving her be only when she gives him a shove and the small group start heading off towards the lake.

*FPS*

"The Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Cries of outrage echo through the hall. The members of the Slytherin Quidditch team glare at Dumbledore with murder in their eyes and the other house teams look just as furious. Dumbledore appears completely unfazed.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing through the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have the great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

*FPS*

Harry's never seen Mad-Eye Moody, but he's read about him and the instant he sees him clump into the hall, he knows who he is. There's no way the scarred, one-legged man could be anyone else.

"Who's that?" asks Layla, sat beside Cid and stretching to peer past people. "Is he a teacher?"

"You think he's the new Defence teacher?" Tyler asks no one in particular.

"It's going to be one hell of a year if it is," Harry says. "That's Mad-Eye Moody."

Tyler clearly knows the name, looking at Moody with renewed interest as he approaches Dumbledore.

*FPS*

"I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts has been given the great honour of hosting a legendary event this year: the Triwizard Tournament. For those who don't know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each institute a single student is selected to compete for the honour of their school and a thousand galleon prize money. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October and the selection of the three contenders will take place on Hallowe'en, when an impartial judge will decide which students are worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup."

*FPS*

All the talk that evening as they head back to their common rooms is of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry has to admit that the idea of competing is appealing. He could do it, even if he isn't old enough. He falls asleep that night with visions of standing before the school, the Triwizard cup held up as they cheer for him.

*FPS*

He's annoyed when Malfoy all but corners him in the bathroom the next morning. They're the only ones in there and Harry's got no interest in getting into a fight with him.

"What's it going to take for you to not hate me?"

"Try being a decent human being. Why are you so intent on it anyway? You never cared before I had that seizure back in May."

Malfoy doesn't answer straight away, looking at Harry thoughtfully for a moment before he says, "I know who you are."

"What?"

"I know who you are."

"I would expect you to after harassing me for so long. What d'you want, a medal?"

Malfoy folds his arms over his chest. "You're the Boy Who Lived."

*FPS*

Harry's stomach drops. He tries to keep his face blank. "That's ridiculous."

"I saw it—the scar. When you had that seizure in May. Whatever spell it is you use to hide it, it broke when you were twitching about all over the place. You might want to be careful about that."

Harry's mouth is dry. "Why are you telling me this now? Who else knows? Who have you told?"

"No one. I've kept your secrets. I haven't even told my parents."

"This is why you've been trying to befriend me? You just want the Boy Who Lived on your side?"

Malfoy shrugs. "You wanted to know. Now I've told you."

"And what? If I keep saying no you'll spill my secret?"

He won't. He won't even leave the bathroom knowing it. Harry's not letting him walk away with this knowledge.

*FPS*

"No," Malfoy says, and Harry doesn't believe it for a second. "I've haven't told anyone yet and I won't. You've got the wrong idea about me, Evans."

"I really don't think I have. You're a Muggle-hating prick who's only being nice because you want powerful friends."

"You're a third year; you're not that powerful. As for the Muggles, they deserve it. I heard it was a Muggle that blinded your eye and caused your epilepsy. How can you defend them after that?"

"It was a wizard that killed my parents and tried to kill me. Wizards aren't better than Muggles. We're all people. We're all made of shit."

"Pretty miserable outlook on life for a thirteen year old."

"Fourteen and you'd have a miserable outlook on life if you'd met the people I have. I'm done discussing this. Forget—"

The bathroom door opens and Logan Sparrow walks in, a fifth year prefect. He glances at them on his way to the sinks.

"If you two are getting frisky, take it somewhere else. This is a shared bathroom. We don't want to see it."

"Please," Malfoy drawls with a sneer, "I would never do anything like that in a shared bathroom. There's all kinds of germs. See you around, Evans."

*FPS*

The confrontation makes Harry forget to take his anti-convulsion potion that morning—a bad start to finally being able to manage it himself instead of going to the Hospital Wing every morning—and between that and the worry about Malfoy knowing who he is, he's not surprised when he finds himself lying on the floor of the potions classroom that afternoon, his head pounding, Snape watching him from a nearby stool and the rest of his classmates gone.

*FPS*

Snape walks him up to the Hospital Wing; he'd hit his head when he fell, which explains the raging headache.

"Don't you have a class to teach?"

"Not right now. I also sent Miss Liao with a note to Professor Vector explaining your absence."

"Can't believe I'm missing my first Arithmancy class. What a crappy way to start the year."

"Language," Snape scolds but without much severity, then says, "You seemed distracted in class today. Is there something on your mind that could have triggered the seizure?"

He stops suddenly, looking up at Snape who turns to him questioningly. "My scar—did it show when I had the seizure?"

"Not that I noticed. Why?"

"Malfoy knows who I am. He saw me have a seizure back in May and he said my scar showed. He told me so this morning and I was so distracted I forgot to take my potion."

*FPS*

Snape gestures for him to continue walking. "He discovered this is May and only told you now?"

"He's been trying to be friends with me since then. He was being nice at the end of last year, he kept writing to me in the summer, and he took me to the World Cup match."

Snape looks at him sharply. "You were there? With the Malfoys? Was Black or Lupin with you?"

Harry shakes his head. "Just me, Malfoy, and his parents. I had an emergency portkey though. Sirius set my bracelet up. He was worried Mr Malfoy might figure out who I was and hurt me."

"If Draco knows, he may have told Lucius already. You put yourself at risk going there alone."

"I wanted to see the match; I'm not going to get another chance. And Malfoy hasn't told anyone."

"You believe him about that? I thought you knew better than to trust the words of someone like Draco."

Harry glances around but the corridor approaching the Hospital Wing is empty and there's no nearby doors for anyone to be hiding behind. "I Wished him to tell the truth. He hasn't told anyone. I was going to make him forget, but Sparrow walked in on us and I didn't get chance."

It's Snape's turn to stop walking and turn to him, raising an eyebrow. "You were going to memory charm Draco?"

"He might not have told anyone yet but that doesn't mean he won't. I can't let him remember."

"And if you'd made him forget everything, how did you plan to explain that?"

"I wouldn't," Harry says defensively. "As long as I word it right, it's fine."

"You've memory charmed people before, have you?" Snape sneers, clearly expecting the answer to be no, then he narrows his eyes when Harry looks away. "Who?"

*FPS*

He tells him about the fight from when he visited Tyler's the first time this summer.

"Are you going to report me to the Ministry?"

"Report you for what? There's no evidence you did anything. If your memory charms are as effective as everything else, they're not likely to be able to find out who did it from the children, and as you didn't use a wand, they won't be able to link it back to you with that."

"If they could, would you report me?"

"If they could, I wouldn't need to. They'd have known you did it anyway."

"I had to do it," Harry says defensively. "They saw me do magic when I didn't mean to."

"I understand that, but that doesn't mean I approve of you fiddling with the memory of two students and several Muggles. You need to learn to control your magic better. You are prone to outbursts and one day you could cause serious harm to yourself or other people."

"Does this mean I'm not allowed to make Malfoy forget about me?" he asks as they reach the Hospital Wing.

"I certainly don't think you ought to," Snape says, frowning. "No matter how skilled you are, memory charms can be detrimental if used repeatedly on the same person."

"Then what _am_ I supposed to do about it?"

"You're a Slytherin, Evans. Be cunning."


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks for the reviews!

**Chapter 25**

Harry's not sure what exactly Snape means when he says Harry's supposed to be cunning in dealing with Malfoy. He tells himself he'll think over it for a few days—no longer than a week—then if he hasn't figured it out, he'll just memory charm him. To Harry, that still seems like the ideal course of action.

*FPS*

A fight breaks out before dinner that day when Malfoy starts taunting Ron Weasley because of a news article in the _Daily Prophet_ that painted Mr Weasley in a bad light. Harry watches from the crowd, sees Malfoy throw a curse at Ron when he insults Malfoy's mother, and sees Moody transfigure Malfoy into a ferret for it.

Harry hasn't formed much of an opinion of Moody beyond the general sort of respect that he has towards any law enforcement personnel, but that vanishes when he sees Moody bouncing the ferret up and down, driving it higher and higher and hitting the floor harder and harder. He doesn't care how many dark wizards Moody's put behind bars and it doesn't matter that it's Malfoy being attacked, because there's nothing Harry hates more than a bully.

*FPS*

"Hey, Hermione."

Hermione jumps slightly as Harry sits down at the table she's working at in the library, and then instead of returning his greeting smile, she looks at him almost warily.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Why did Malfoy think you were friends? I heard him on the train yesterday."

He hadn't mentioned attending the Quidditch cup with the Malfoys prior to going and hadn't written to anyone in the last week of the holidays, figuring there was little point when they'd all be back at school soon.

"You know I told you he was writing to me in the summer?"

"You also said you told him to stop."

"He didn't. He invited me to go to the Quidditch World Cup with him and his parents."

"And you _went_?"

"It was the World Cup, Hermione. I know you're not a big Quidditch fan but surely you realise the kind of opportunity that was."

"But it's _Malfoy_."

"I know, but there was no other chance I was going to get to go, and Remus said that befriending Malfoy could be a step towards making him change his attitudes."

"Or towards changing yours."

"You think I'm going to suddenly start spouting that pureblood rubbish by hanging around him?" he asks angrily.

"If you believe he can change, then so can you."

"Yeah, because I'm totally going to start supporting the guy who _murdered my parents_."

Hermione goes red. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers. "Of course not, I didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Just that... look, I know you'd never support You Know Who or what he does, but you have to realise that Malfoy can influence you just as much as you can influence him. Not all pureblood idealists are supporters of You Know Who. Some of them just believe in segregation rather than murder and torture."

"Well you don't have to worry about that. If you listened yesterday, you'd have heard that we're not friends. I assume you heard about what happened at the World Cup?"

Hermione nods. "It sounds awful."

"It was. We saw the whole thing and Malfoy didn't give a damn about those Muggles. I'm not being friends with him, so you really don't have to worry about him influencing me. Besides, I'd never do anything that would make me abandon the first friend I ever had," he says, and is glad to see her smile.

*FPS*

Their first Defence class of the year is the next day. Harry sits at the back, listening to Moody talk. Lupin had been good and he'd been interesting, but Moody talks about Defence with the experience of someone who's been out there and seen it all first hand. Not that it makes Harry like him any better.

*FPS*

"The Ministry reckons you shouldn't see these curses until sixth year, but Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, even if it did take some convincing. But the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. Dark wizards aren't going to tell you what they're doing before they curse you, they're not going to be nice about it, so you need to be prepared, watchful, and alert."

*FPS*

Harry's not amused by the spider forced to dance around on Moody's desk by the Imperius, and when he casts the Cruciatus it only further cements Harry's negative opinion of the man. He realises it's just a spider, but he feels Moody could just as easily and carelessly cast it on a human. But the Killing Curse leaves Harry feeling oddly shaken. When Moody mentions that Harry Potter's the only person to have survived it, Harry stares at his desk and has to forcibly remind himself that no one knows who he is and they're not all staring at him.

*FPS*

They're supposed to be Transfiguring water goblets into birds in their next class, but Harry's mind is still on their Defence class. Only when McGonagall comes by his table, inspecting their spell work, does he even try the spell. He jabs his wand at the water goblet and mutters the incantation, but instead of a living wren, it turns into a pile of dead spiders, which makes Tabitha Sinclair, sat in the next desk over, shriek and scramble out of her seat to get away from them. Harry's just surprised.

"Well," McGonagall says, transfiguring the spiders back into a goblet. "I can hardly take points for a perfect transfiguration, but please keep your mind on the correct animal, Mr Evans. There are enough spiders in this castle without you adding more."

*FPS*

She keeps him behind after class and cuts him off when he starts to apologise.

"I didn't hold you back for punishment, Mr Evans," she says, placing a goblet on her desk. "I want you to do it again."

"I'm sorry?"

"Cast the spell I taught you today, precisely rather than half-heartedly this time, and turn this goblet into spiders."

"Um, alright."

He does so, flicking his wand in the right motions and enunciating the incantation clearly, but thinking of spiders instead of wrens. When it's done, McGonagall turns them back and looks at Harry appraisingly

"Do you know much Latin?"

"Not really," he answers honestly, not sure why she's asking him about that. "Just the occasional word picked up from spells."

"Then you don't realise that this spell should turn an object into a wren and only a wren. At the very most you could cause the targeted object to become a bird of the same genus, but not an invertebrate."

"Oh," he says, and she sighs.

"This means that you ought to pay more attention when you're spell casting, Mr Evans. Your classmates are likely too startled today and too young to realise, but other people will notice that you can cast spells that don't react as they should."

"Oh," he says again, but this time in realisation. "Then they'll figure out my magic isn't normal."

She nods. "I don't know the specifics of your 'Wish Magic', but it seems to me neither do you. I strongly advise you be careful and perhaps spend some time exploring your boundaries."

*FPS*

Ancient Runes and Arithmancy classes are as demanding as he remembers them being from the few he snuck into the year he spent hiding in the school. He enjoys having classes that genuinely challenge him; his other classes are all mostly a matter of learning the theory and letting his magic do the rest. Even Potions is simple enough as long as he pays attention, follows the instructions, and remembers the numerous applications of various ingredients. Only Herbology and Astronomy provide him with any great difficulty—using magic on some plants can be dangerous, so he can't cheat his way through that, and he's terrible at finding the right stars in Astronomy. He can easily memorise a star chart, but he can never manage to properly match the chart to the real thing.

*FPS*

On Friday of that first week, Harry corners Malfoy in a deserted corridor in the dungeons. Malfoy's still being nice to him, greeting him every morning and nodding politely when they pass in the corridors. Harry's returned them all with stony glares

*FPS*

"No one would believe you."

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "About...?"

"Me. If you told, no one would believe you. You can't prove it."

"I said I wouldn't tell anyone anyway."

"Why not?" he demands. "What are you up to, Malfoy?"

"Is it really so hard to believe I'm doing this out of the—"

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," Harry interrupts. "You don't have a heart. You proved that at the World Cup."

"What do _you_ want, Evans? Is there a reason you cornered me or are you just eager to spend more time with me."

Harry sneers, stepping back. "As if," he says. "I just wanted to warn you that if you do try and tell anyone about me, I might have to let slip that the perfect little pureblood spent time at a Muggle establishment this summer and enjoyed it."

"You can't prove that anymore than I can prove who you are. Less. All I have to do is cause you to have a seizure then point out a certain scar, and I've been doing a little research on epilepsy so don't think I couldn't do it."

"For someone who's so eager to have me as a friend, you're doing a good job of making me hate you more. Threatening people isn't how you make friends, Malfoy."

"Well being nice isn't working, so why shouldn't I move on to less conventional methods?"

"How about you just stop? What's it going to take to get it through your head—I. Don't. Want. To be. Your. Friend."

"Fine, so don't be," Malfoy sneers, shoving him away. "Just remember there's nothing illegal about being polite."

*FPS*

"Oh, good, I was hoping to find you here."

"Hey, Hermione. What's up?"

Hermione dumps a box down on the library table and drops into a chair. Neville follows her, an apprehensive expression on his face.

"I want you to join S.P.E.W."

"Spew? What's that?"

Neville winces. Hermione huffs. "It's not _spew_, it's S-P-E-W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it."

"I came up with it yesterday. Neville's already joined."

"Okay, but what exactly is it? What's its purpose?"

"To stop the dreadful treatment of house elves. Our short term aims are to get them fair wages and working conditions. Our long term aims—"

"Hang on, you want to pay house elves?"

"They're slaves, Harry. It's cruel and horrible and it's been going on for centuries. Even Hogwarts is a part of this monstrosity; did you know there are over a hundred elves working in the castle? It's an outrage."

"But elves like working. It's what they do."

"Only because wizards have conditioned them to be that way! They've been mistreated and brain-washed into thinking they like enslavement. It's time something was done. It's time _we_ did something about it. That's why I'm making you secretary, and I'll give you some badges—" she gestures to the box she'd dumped on the table "—so you can get your other friends to join."

Harry shakes his head. "Sorry, Hermione, and good luck, but I'm not joining. I've met a few house elves and they all seemed perfectly happy to me. Besides, I'd get laughed out of Slytherin if I tried getting people to vie for house elf rights."

Hermione gets up, grabbing her box and storming out the library.

"I don't think she's going to talk to you anymore," Neville says, watching her go.

"She'll get over it. Right?"

Neville shrugs. "She's spent all week researching; she's become obsessed with this elf rights thing. You could always join and just tell her you tried to convince your friends to sign up."

"Maybe, but she wouldn't believe that right now."

"Yeah, guess not. So how are you finding your new classes? You're taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, aren't you?"

*FPS*

He takes McGonagall's advice and spends some time practising his magic. It doesn't take him long to discover that he can make his wand completely redundant. He can perfectly cast a spell with the correct wand movements and clearly spoken incantation, but as long as he concentrates, he can use his Wish Magic to bring about a completely different result. He's not sure there's much point to it, but it's a cool trick nevertheless.

*FPS*

Harry's surprised when, several weeks later, Moody announces that he'll be putting each of them under the Imperius Curse to show them what it's like and see how they hold up against.

"But, sir, the use of those curses on a human being is illegal," Jia points out.

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," says Moody, his magical eye swivelling onto Jia and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way—when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely—fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

Jia glances towards the door, but she doesn't leave and neither does anyone else.

*FPS*

The Imperius makes Harry feel surprisingly relaxed and content. He'd thought it would be utterly terrifying, to lose control of himself like that, but he feels only calmly happy.

_Jump onto the desk_, comes Moody's voice.

He bends his knees, but somewhere in the back of his head a second voice says, 'Don't be an idiot.'

_Jump onto the desk._

'Why would you do that? We don't want to jump onto the desk. There's no point.'

_Jump! NOW!_

'DON'T.'

*FPS*

"That's more like it!"

The echoing, empty sensation in his head disappears. His knees are hurting and the desk he'd been told to jump on has toppled over from his attempt to jump on it and stop himself all at the same time.

"He damn near resisted that. Let's go again, Evans, and the rest of you pay attention: watch his eyes—the good one—that's where you see it..."

*FPS*

He resists it the second time. That little voice inside his head is more demanding this time, sounding almost angry, as though personally offended at him for not resisting it the first time, and it's far more convincing than Moody's orders. His dislike of Moody helps; there's a rebellious desire not to do what he says anyway so he'd much rather listen to that little voice in his head than listen to Moody.

*FPS*

"You alright there, Evans?" Moody growls.

_Oh yes,_ drawls the voice in his head, _absolutely fine_.

He idly wonders when he started making such sarcastic remarks to himself, but ignores the voice and looks around. He's on the floor of the Defence classroom feeling familiar post-seizure fatigue, the desks have all been moved back into place and instead of his classmates, there's a group of sixth years in the room, getting out their books and shooting him curious or worried glances.

"I'm alright," he mutters, sitting up.

"You need taking to the Hospital Wing?"

He shakes his head, getting to his feet despite feeling weak still. "I'm fine, sir."

Moody looks at him with his normal eye while his electric blue one gazes around the class. "Weasley, walk him to his next class. Just one of you will do," he adds when both Fred and George get to their feet. Without even discussing it or looking at one another, Fred sits back down and George joins Harry as he leaves the classroom.

"You sure you don't need to go to the hospital? You don't look that great."

"I'm fine. You don't need to walk me there."

George shrugs, hands in his pockets. "Gets me out of class. Where are you meant to be, anyway?"

"Transfiguration."

*FPS*

McGonagall eyes him with a frown when they reach her class, but doesn't comment on his pale face.

"Thank you, Weasley, you can return to your class. Take a seat, Evans. Now, who can tell me which of the five principle exceptions to Gamp's Law is relevant to the transfiguration of non-living to living matter?"

*FPS*

Harry does find one thing to like about Moody—his magical eye inspires Harry to write to Kirith Karpel to ask about the possibility of him getting one. It's been two years since she told him she couldn't and he's hoping it's long enough for her to have changed her mind.

_Just as long as it's not that ugly monstrosity Moody's wearing_, remarks his newly vocal inner voice.

*FPS*

A notice goes up on the twenty-seventh of October announcing that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would be arriving the following Friday. Their last class (Charms for the third year Slytherins) would be cut short so they could return their bags to their dorms before assembling at the front of the castle to greet the visiting students.

*FPS*

"Fucking cool," Cid declares when the Beauxbatons carriage lands in front of where they're all lined up in front of the castle on Friday evening. "Look at those horses..."

Harry has to agree that the huge, winged palominos pulling the carriage were beautiful creatures, but he's soon distracted by Madame Maxime, who's by far the largest woman he's ever seen. She towers over Dumbledore and is matched in height by only Hagrid.

Harry's more impressed by the Durmstrang ship. While less impressive in looks than the Beauxbatons carriage and horses, he thinks sprouting out of the lake is much more interesting. But the most astounding part about Durmstrang isn't the ship or sprouting out of the lake, but the fact that trailing along behind Headmaster Karkaroff is Viktor Krum.

*FPS*

Cid almost dies of joy when the Durmstrang students choose to sit at the Slytherin table when they all get inside the Great Hall.

"Can you fucking believe this? Viktor Krum! Sitting right there! Merlin, this is fucking cool!"

"Chill out," Tyler tells him. "He's just a—"

Cid slaps a hand over Tyler's mouth, glaring at him. "Don't. Finish. That. Viktor Krum is the definition of awesome, okay? He's the best seeker _ever_ and if you say anything against him, I will put worms in your bed."

Tyler's smiling when Cid pulls his hand away. "Whatever you say."

"He is pretty incredible," Harry says, though he's not turned into a flailing fanboy like Cid. "He flew amazingly in the World Cup."

"Did he ever," Cid sighs adoringly.

"He's not very handsome though," says Layla from a few seats down, having listened to their conversation. Cid's adoring expression turns sour in an instant.

"You're twelve, Layla. You can't say things like that. You shouldn't even think things like that."

Layla just beams at him and his expression softens.

*FPS*

"The moment has come," says Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger. As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

*FPS*

The goblet is a roughly hewn wooden cup that would be completely unremarkable had it not been brewing with dancing blue flames. Dumbledore tells them that it will be placed in the entrance hall and that any students wishing to enter the tournament need only write their name on a bit of parchment and put it in the goblet. An age line will be drawn around it to prevent any underage students giving in to temptation, and Harry's first thought is 'I wonder if I can get past it'.

_Idiot. Of course you can._

*FPS*

He can't resist sneaking out of Slytherin that night, creeping along invisible and with the Marauder's Map in hand to check for anyone else about. He sees no one else as he heads up to the Entrance Hall, where he pockets the Map and glances around before approaching the age line. He hesitates just outside it, not sure what'd happen to anyone who's underage that tries to cross it, then silently Wishes don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me and steps over the flickering blue line. He stops just on the other side, standing for a moment, but nothing happens. He moves further in until he's right up by the cup, and he's suddenly glad he didn't write his name on a bit of parchment because if he had he wouldn't have been able to resist putting it in, and he's pretty sure he'd get in massive amounts of trouble for that no matter how skilled he is.

*FPS*

He sits with everyone else in nervous anticipation the next evening, waiting eagerly to hear who would be chosen as champions. Only a few Slytherins have entered, none of whom Harry really knows, but he supports them out of house loyalty.

*FPS*

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

*FPS*

"The champion for Beauxbatons will be Fleur Delacour."

*FPS*

"The champion for Hogwarts will be Cedric Diggory."

*FPS*

"Excellent!" Dumbledore calls happily as at last the tumult dies down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

*FPS*

Harry's as confused as everyone else when the flames in the Goblet of Fire turn red a fourth time and spits out another bit of parchment. There's a long moment when Dumbledore stares at the parchment and everyone stares at Dumbledore, and then he clears his throat and says,

"Harry Evans."

* * *

Pay attention, children, we learned some very valuable information today. Also, hang around: I'm uploading a second chapter today because I'm feeling nice like that.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **I'm posting this almost immediately after Chapter 25. Make sure you've read that before reading this.

**Warning** for ableist language from Rita Skeeter.

**Chapter 26**

_That's not good_.

*FPS*

The hall is utterly silent. Harry wonders if perhaps his name had only been said by that voice he's been hearing ever since Moody cast the Imperius on him. At the staff table, both Snape and McGonagall get to their feet and go over to Dumbledore. Snape snatches the bit of parchment from him and stares at it, while McGonagall whispers urgently to Dumbledore. The rest of the Slytherin students stare at Harry.

*FPS*

"Harry Evans!" Dumbledore calls again. "Harry! Come up here, please!"

He gets up, walking towards the staff table on shaky legs. McGonagall's lips are pursed tightly and Snape looks angry.

"Through the door, Harry," Dumbledore says, gesturing to the door the other champions had gone through after their names had been called. He's not smiling. Harry swallows thickly, doesn't look at Snape or McGonagall, and walks over to the door, feeling every eye in the room following him.

*FPS*

Harry's feels tiny as he stands in the room. He knows he's small, but standing before Krum, Fleur, and Diggory, he feels even smaller and for all his bravado and his Wish Magic he realises now that he doesn't really want to compete in the tournament. He doesn't want to go up against Krum, who's the best seeker in the world, or Diggory, who's handsome and loved by most of the school, or Fleur, who he knows nothing about but she must be as good as the other two if she got picked by the goblet.

*FPS*

Ludo Bagman, one of the judges alongside Barty Crouch and the three headteachers, smiles broadly as he enters the side room where they're all collected. He's the only one who does.

"Gentlemen, lady, it appears we have a _fourth_ Triwizard champion."

Krum is clearly annoyed. Diggory looks only puzzled. Fleur thinks it's a joke. Harry wishes it was. He's glad when Crouch, Dumbledore, Maxime, Karkoroff, Snape, and McGonagall come charging in, just because there are familiar faces who might possibly be sympathetic to his plight.

*FPS*

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asks him.

"No," he answers honestly.

"Did you ask an older student to put your name in there?"

"No. I swear, professor. I didn't do it."

"Ah, but 'e is lying, of course!" Maxime cries.

"I'm not!" Harry says desperately. "I didn't put my name in!"

Snape steps forward. He's still got the slip of parchment and he holds it up between two fingers. "I have been marking his work for over two years; this is not his handwriting."

Harry's so grateful right then that he completely forgets that he doesn't like Snape.

*FPS*

"This is outrageous!" Karkaroff explodes. "Hogwarts cannot have two champions. It's unacceptable!"

"I don't want to be a champion!" Harry cries. "I didn't put my name in and I don't want to compete."

"You have to," Crouch says. "The rules state that anyone whose name comes out of the Goblet must compete."

"But I'm not even qualified! I'm too young!"

"Zen you should not have put your name in ze Goblet," Maxime says haughtily.

"I _didn't!_ Can't I just back out?"

"The Goblet creates a binding magical contract," Moody growls from his spot by the door.

"But there's got to be a way to disqualify people, even regularly. What about my health?" Harry asks Snape. "Wouldn't that disqualify me? Surely if Kirith said it was too risky because of my epilepsy..."

Snape glances at Dumbledore, who looks to Crouch and Bagman. Crouch shakes his head and Harry's heart sinks.

"Alastor is right. This is a binding magical contract. It cannot be withdrawn on a matter of bad health."

*FPS*

There's more arguing but in the end it's all for nothing. It's decided that Harry has to compete. He listens distantly as Crouch describes the first task—a challenge of daring, to see how they fare in the face of the unknown—and wonders if they'll let him out of it if he performs badly enough in the first task.

*FPS*

Snape walks out with him when they're dismissed.

"Sir, I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I swear I didn't."

"I believe you," he says. "I meant it when I said I recognise your handwriting. I did set you five hundred lines once."

Harry can't bring himself to smile at the memory.

"I did get past the age line," he admits. "I just wanted to see if I could, but I didn't put my name in. Who do you think could have done it?"

Snape doesn't have an answer.

*FPS*

He's greeted with a roar of cheers when he gets back to Slytherin. Hands grab him and haul him inside, patting him on the back and shoulders.

"So, how'd you do it?" Malfoy asks, looking almost impressed.

"I didn't. It wasn't me."

Malfoy nods. "Of course not. Butterbeer?"

"No, I don't—"

"Why the fuck didn't you tell us?" Cid says, appearing on his left as Tyler appears on his right.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be friends."

"Nice one, Evans," says Logan Sparrow, cutting off Harry's stuttering objections. "Better you than that bloody Hufflepuff. You'd better kick his arse for us."

*FPS*

No one believes he didn't do it, but they're Slytherins so they don't pester him. They want to figure it out themselves or trick it out of him rather than question him until he gives it up. It takes him half an hour to pull away from them all and disappear into the dorms, where he climbs onto his bed, yanks his curtains shut, and lays back against the pillows, wishing he hadn't left Kiwi at home with Sirius and Lupin because he could really do with curling up and cuddling her right now.

_You might as well make the most of it though. Sparrow's right; you'd better kick Diggory's arse, and Krum and Fleur's while you're at it._

*FPS*

He hasn't told anyone about the voice. He doesn't want them thinking he's mad. It's not like it's telling him to do dangerous things like he's heard happens to some people who hear voices, so he figures it's just his own thoughts being a little more vocal. He spends enough time in hospitals without getting dragged to see a psychiatrist as well.

*FPS*

The Slytherins might be impressed by him, but the rest of the school is very pointedly not. As soon as he, Tyler, and Cid reach the Entrance Hall the next morning and come across other students, he's subjected to dirty looks and cruel whispers, and when they enter the Great Hall, every Hufflepuff in there looks at him like he's a walking piece of dog shit. He suddenly finds himself not very hungry and he grabs a croissant from the table, mutters something to Cid and Tyler about going to the owlery, and walks straight back out again.

*FPS*

"Hey, Evans!"

He hunches his shoulders and doesn't stop walking, but Malfoy jogs to catch up and falls into step beside him.

"How's it going, champion?"

"Fuck off."

"Ah, like that I see. Well, I just thought you'd like to know that I believe you about not putting your name in."

Harry stops, turning to stare suspiciously at him. "Why?"

"You're the Boy Who Lived—" (Harry glances up and down the hall, but they're the only ones there) "—but you've gone to a lot of effort to conceal that. You're hardly going to ruin it now by drawing attention to yourself. You _hate_ attention, anyone with half a brain can see that."

Harry's not completely sure he trusts him, but he's grateful nonetheless. "Thanks."

*FPS*

"So, any theories on who did put it in?" Draco asks as they continue walking. Harry shrugs.

"Not really."

"Do you think it's someone who knows who you are, tying to bump off the Boy—" he cuts himself off as Harry glares at him. "Alright, alright. But my point stands."

"Possible, but there's not many people who know. Unless you've told someone," he remarks offhandedly while silently Wishing for him to tell the truth.

"I haven't told a soul. Who else does know?"

"None of your business."

"Dumbledore, I'm guessing," Malfoy muses as though he hasn't heard Harry. "I'm betting Snape does as well, and McGonagall. She looked stressed last night when your name came out. What about your friends? Villiers doesn't; there's no way he could keep his filthy mouth shut about that, but what about Lyle?"

Harry says nothing. Malfoy shrugs. "I'll figure it out."

*FPS*

Malfoy follows him all the way up to the owlery, where Harry calls down Hedwig and gives her a letter to deliver to Sirius and Lupin. Afterwards he gets rid of Malfoy by saying he's going to find Hermione and Neville. Malfoy sneers but he doesn't insult them, lifting his hand in a lazy wave goodbye as he wanders off.

Neither Hermione or Neville are in the library. He stays there until lunch, at which point he goes to the Entrance Hall and hangs about hoping to catch them there, but leaves after only a few minutes because he can't stand the dirty looks everyone gives him, and eventually slouches off to Slytherin feeling thoroughly miserable.

*FPS*

Hermione and Neville come up to him just after dinner that evening, catching him in the Entrance Hall.

"We know you didn't put your name in the Goblet of Fire," Hermione tells him, apparently over, or at least choosing to ignore for now, his refusal to join S.P.E.W.

"You do?" he says, surprised.

"I looked over and saw your face when Dumbledore called your name. You looked horrified."

_Observative. I knew you kept her around for a reason._

"I was. But thank you, really. That makes a grand total of six people who believe I didn't do it."

"Who are the others? Your friends?"

He shakes his head. "Tyler and Cid are convinced I did it. They all are except Malfoy, plus Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. Hopefully Sirius and Remus, too."

"Malfoy?" Neville says incredulously. "He believes you?"

"So he says. He knows about me," he adds in a low voice, edging to one side. "Not what I can do, but who I am."

"That's bad," Neville says and Hermione nods her agreement.

"Is he blackmailing you?"

"No, he's just being friendly. Still. It's why he's doing it. He wants to be pals with the Boy Who Lived. He hasn't told anyone, yet."

"How can you be sure?"

"You know me. I just need to wish hard enough."

*FPS*

Potions with the Hufflepuffs on Monday afternoon is tense. The two houses don't get along as it is, save for Alex Stone, but he refuses to talk to Harry and he's even cold towards Tyler.

"Sorry," he apologises with only a touch of sincerity, "but he's stealing our glory. You're my best friend and all, Tyler, but I've got to show support for my house."

Snape doesn't help matters by being particular vicious to the Hufflepuffs that afternoon, docking points for the tiniest mistakes and being scathing to the point of driving Isabelle Walker to tears.

*FPS*

McGonagall comes up to Harry during breakfast the following Saturday and sternly summons him to her office. He trudges after her, wondering what misery-inducing thing he's going to hear now, but when he steps into her office he smiles for the first time in a week.

"Sirius!"

"Hey, kid."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'll leave you be," McGonagall says, "but try and keep it quick."

She steps out, shutting the door behind her. Sirius and Harry sit down, facing each other.

"We got your letter and I wanted to come talk to you face to face. Dumbledore agreed I could come up for a quick visit, given the circumstances."

"You believe I didn't—"

"Course I do," Sirius cuts him off. "We both do. This is something your dad and I would have done when we were your age, but you've got more of Lily's sense in you. Have you had any thoughts about who it was?"

Harry shakes his head. "I've no idea. It's got to be someone who knows who I am though, doesn't it? Who would bother going to all the trouble for a random third year?"

"I'm afraid you're probably right about that, which doesn't leave a lot of options."

Harry thinks about telling him that Malfoy knows, but Harry's certain Malfoy hasn't told anyone and Sirius is suspicious enough of all the Malfoys as it is, so he decides to keep it quiet for now.

*FPS*

Sirius warns him against Karkaroff, who he reveals is a Death Eater, and tells him to trust Moody. Harry scowls at that.

"You don't like him?" Sirius asks.

"He's a bully."

"Ahh, he's been around the block, kid. He's going to be a tough teacher, but he knows his stuff."

"I don't mean that." He tells him about the incident at the start of year, but Sirius only shrugs.

"Sounds like the Malfoy kid deserved it."

"He deserved getting told off and having house points taken, not being bounced around like a basketball."

"Basketball?"

"It's... never mind. Moody's a bully. He abused his power and I'm not going to trust him _or_ Dumbledore."

*FPS*

When Harry notices people wearing badges pinned to their robes, he thinks for one minute that Hermione's finally managed to convince half the school to join S.P.E.W, until he realises that the badges read, in large black letters on a yellow background:

_Support CEDRIC DIGGORY_

_The REAL Hogwarts Champion_

The Hufflepuffs delight in showing him that's not all they do either. When pressed the badge turns glowing green, with the words:

_EVANS STINKS_

*FPS*

Within days the Slytherins are wearing their own badges. Harry doesn't know who started them (though Malfoy's smug grin gives him a pretty good idea) but he really wishes they hadn't. _HARRY EVANS: SALAZAR'S CHAMPION_ isn't the kind of thing he wants to see flashing at him ten times a day, and he's especially uncomfortable when it brings up discussion of the Chamber of Secrets and people start remembering that he'd been a suspect of the attacks.

*FPS*

His mood is improved ever so slightly when a letter comes from Kirith saying she's willing to reconsider giving him a new eye, but he'll need to take another MRI and EEG, and she's booked him in for both at the end of December.

*FPS*

Two weeks after Hallowe'en, Harry's Ancient Runes class is interrupted by Layla Swift coming in and telling Professor Babbling that Harry has to go down to one of the lower classrooms for photographs. The girls—he's the only Slytherin boy in their year taking Ancient Runes—cheer and he leaves feeling mortified.

Layla leads him down to one of the smaller classrooms on the second floor where the desks have been pushed aside and the other three champions are already waiting. Bagman's there too, as is a photographer, and a journalist Bagman introduces as Rita Skeeter. Harry knows the name; she's been writing articles all summer trash-talking the Ministry for what happened at the Quidditch World Cup.

*FPS*

Skeeter drags him out the room, ignoring his protests about not wanting to do an interview, and all but manhandles him into a broom cupboard where she sits on an upturned bucket and smiles at him.

"So. The youngest champion. Tell me, Harry, what made you enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I didn't."

"Of course not," Rita says dramatically and winks. "Everyone loves a bad boy, Harry."

"I _didn't_. I don't want to be in this stupid tournament."

He's not sure she even hears him. "How are you feeling about the upcoming tasks? Nervous? Excited? You're going up against students much older and more experienced than you. It must be nerve-wracking."

_You've no idea. He's like a junkie that hasn't had a fix in three days. It's ridiculous._

He has to bite his tongue to avoid telling the voice to shut up. "Look, I really don't—"

"So tell me about yourself, Harry. What do your parents think of you taking part in such a dangerous tournament? And your deformity," she adds, gaze lingering on his blind eye, "how did that come about? Birth defect? Tragic accident?" She grabs his wrist and peers at his medical bracelet. "Complications from your disease?"

"It's not a disease," he snaps, snatching his hand back. "It's a brain disorder, and my parents are dead so they probably don't give a damn."

"Ooh," she coos with false sympathy. "How _dreadful_. How did they die? How old were you? Were you there, is that how you came about your deformity?"

"I'm not _deformed!_" he yells, and the quick quotes quill that's been scribbling away the entire time suddenly bursts into flames.

*FPS*

The door opens just as Rita's quick quotes quill drops to the floor in a pile of feathery ashes. Dumbledore stands in the doorway with his eyes twinkling and a knowing smile on his face as he sees the destroyed quill and charred parchment.

"If you're quite finished, Ms Skeeter, we'd like to start the wand weighing and we cannot do that when one of our champions is in a broom cupboard."

*FPS*

The wand weighing only involves giving their wands to Mr Ollivander to inspect and check they're in good working order. Harry's glad the others go first; it gives him chance to calm down.

*FPS*

"Ahh, yes, I remember this one," Ollivander says when Harry hands him his wand. Harry wonders if he remembers it for the same reason Harry does—because he'd gone through what felt like every wand in stock before finally finding one that worked for him.

"Hmm... well now, that is curious..."

"Um, what is?" Harry says worriedly, and Ollivander glances at him.

"Magic leaves a mark, Mr Evans. Strong magic can wear down a wand—a poorly made wand in the hands of a wizard it's not suited to might not last a lifetime. Oh, don't worry," he adds when Harry looks startled, "I fully expect this to last you a good long lifetime. It's merely curious that it shows evidence of being used much more than one would expect from someone your age. Had I not sold it myself, I might have thought it had been in use much longer than it has been. Nonetheless," he says, flicking it and casting a spell that has champagne shooting out the end, "it's in perfect working condition."

*FPS*

Harry's not happy about having to stand for photographs afterwards. Ollivander's inspection has made his already sour mood even worse—not the fact that his magic was wearing his wand down, simply the fact that Ollivander expected it to last him 'a good long lifetime' when Harry knew he wouldn't live anything close to a long lifetime, which the voice in his head delights in reminding him.

*FPS*

Rita Skeeter's article the next morning doesn't paint Harry in a good light. She makes him out to be some sort of over-emotional kid who entered the tournament in a desperate urge to prove himself despite his health issues, but who clearly has a death wish and an inability to control his magic—which is all the more annoying for being partially true—that's all the result of being unable to deal with the death of his parents.

*FPS*

His mood is improved ever so slightly by the Hogsmeade weekend on the twenty-first, just a few days before the first task. He walks down with Tyler, Cid, Tabitha, Jia, Toni Kaidkin, and Victoria Vaisey. As unpopular as being champion had made him among the rest of the students, he'd become much more well-liked in Slytherin and the girls in his year, who previously didn't much care for any of them, were now keen to hang out with him and defended him against Orion Devaux, who makes snide comments about having a half-blood champion and is one of the few people in Slytherin not supporting him.

*FPS*

"Evans, I want a word with you."

Harry waves the others on and turns back to Snape, who's stood in his office door. They've only just got back from the village and he's still got bags hanging from his wrists. He felt he deserved to treat himself after everything that's happened, and bought a couple of books, a new winter cloak, and an almost outrageous amount of chocolate.

Inside the office, Snape shuts the door, gestures for him to sit down, and then casts Silencing and Privacy Charms on the door.

"Erm... what's this about?"

"Dragons."

"Dragons?" he repeats blankly.

"For the first task, you have to get past a dragon."

_You're fucked._

*FPS*

"Why are you telling me?" he says weakly. "Teachers aren't meant to help. It's cheating."

Snape raises an eyebrow. "Evans, you're a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake."

"I'm not complaining," he adds. "Really. I'm not. A dragon?"

Snape nods. "I strongly advise you spend tomorrow thinking about what you're going to do. And... I understand your desire to keep your Wish Magic secret, but I'd much prefer your skills revealed than you dead, Harry."

"So would I," Harry says. "Thanks for telling me, sir."

*FPS*

He spends half the night lying in his bed and thinking about how he's supposed to fight a dragon. Or get past one, Snape had said, so he doesn't actually have to _fight_ it. Sneaking _is_ his speciality... he spent years hiding from people... but he'd rather not reveal his Wish Magic if he doesn't absolutely have to.

It's three in the morning and he's almost asleep when he realises he doesn't have to. He has another way to turn invisible and much that he hates the thought of revealing the Invisibility Cloak to everyone—it's his dad's and he wants to keep it to himself—he knows he'd rather everyone knew he had an Invisibility Cloak than everyone know he can simply Wish himself invisible.

*FPS*

He still spends the next day in the library, reading up on dragons. He might have a plan of action but he's not stupid enough to go up against a dragon without knowing more than the basics about them.

*FPS*

He's late to breakfast on Monday morning, having stayed up reading the night before and oversleeping as a result. He rushes up to the Great Hall, but comes to a halt just inside the door when silence falls over the entire room. Everyone turns to look at him and he gets an unpleasant sensation in his stomach. At the staff table, Snape gets to his feet and starts hurrying towards him, but Malfoy reaches Harry first.

"It wasn't me," he says in a murmur. "I swear to you."

"What wasn't?"

Malfoy holds out a folded up newspaper, but before Harry can take it Snape's on them and snatching it away. He grabs Harry's arm and turns him around, marching him out the hall without a word.

"Sir, what's—"

"In here," he says, roughly guiding him into an empty classroom and shutting the door behind him.

"Sir?"

"You're not going to like what you're about to read," Snape says. "Which is why I don't want you seeing it in the hall where there are plenty of people that could be harmed."

"What's going on?" he asks, panic bubbling in his chest now. Snape hands him the paper and Harry snatches it from him, unfolding it and staring at the front page, which is almost completely covered by six words.

_HARRY EVANS: THE BOY WHO LIVED_


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks for the reviews!

**Chapter 27**

The windows of the classroom shatter. In the hallway, three suits of armour blow apart, sending helmets, legs, and arms flying across the hall. The paper bursts into flames.

*FPS*

"Malfoy," Harry growls. "I'll kill him. I should have just wiped his memory."

"You will not kill him because he didn't do it," Snape tells him.

"Who else would it be? Hermione and Neville wouldn't tell so unless it was one of the staff..."

"Despite what you feel about me, I hope you at least trust I would not do this; I _know_ you think better of Professor McGonagall than to believe she would; and much that you dislike Dumbledore, surely you realise he wouldn't have revealed it either."

"Professors Sprout and Flitwick know, don't they?"

"Sprout and Flitwick would not have told anyone. If you'd read the article before burning it, you'd have seen that it doesn't just reveal who you are, it details private medical issues, including how you came about your injuries. _Exactly_ how."

Harry goes pale. "They know about my uncle?"

Snape nods. "I think you'll find that whoever talked to Skeeter works at Saint Mungo's."

"Not Kirith. She wouldn't, would she?"

"It's possible, but no, I don't believe so."

"But then who? She's the only one that knows who I am. Harry Potter isn't the name in my file."

"Skeeter could have learned your identity from one person, and your medical issues from someone else. Whoever it was and whatever the reason, you have bigger things to worry about right now. The first task," Snape says when Harry looks at him blankly.

"Oh, that. I have a plan."

"Than you should head off to class," Snape says just as the bell rings. Harry doesn't move.

"They won't believe me if I say it's not true, will they?"

"No."

"And I suppose even I can't memory charm the whole country."

"I beg of you not to try," Snape says slowly. "I fear what you might do if you discovered that your power is that great."

*FPS*

Someone's repaired the suits of armour in the hall, where Harry's surprised to find Hermione, Neville, Cid, and Tyler waiting for him. Snape scowls at them all.

"Don't you have classes to be in?"

"We wanted to check he's alright," Hermione says defensively.

"Is it true?" Tyler demands. "You're the Boy Who Lived?"

"Yes," Harry mutters.

"Fuck," Cid says. "Can't believe you never told us. Where's the scar?"

Harry lets it show and then scowls when both he and Tyler peer at it. "Stop staring," he snaps. "We're meant to be in Charms. I'm fine, Hermione. I'll talk to you guys later. Meet you in the library after classes?"

"Sure," Neville says, looking nervous under Snape's glare. "See you later."

*FPS*

Flitwick has to tell the class to settle down when the three of them arrive, but at least he doesn't take points for them being late.

*FPS*

_You really should make the most of this situation. There are perks to being a celebrity. You might not like it, but being the Boy Who Lived can be used to your advantage_.

He doesn't know what advantage that might be but he doesn't much care. He'd rather just be anonymous Harry Evans again.

*FPS*

"Hey, Pot- ow!"

Harry doesn't stop walking, shoulders hunched and a scowl on his face.

"Why is it," Cid says conversationally, "that everyone who tries to call you Potter trips over?"

"Guess they should be more careful."

"The guy wasn't moving."

"Floor must have been slippery."

*FPS*

He's glad to get to the library that afternoon. Madam Pince won't put up with anyone talking too loudly so he can sit at a table away from everyone else and not listen to them gossip.

*FPS*

"Was it Malfoy?" Neville asks when he and Hermione join him.

"Snape doesn't think so, but I'll find out for sure later. We think it might be someone at Saint Mungo's because of all the other stuff Skeeter wrote."

"But healers are bound by confidentiality," Hermione says seriously. "They could lose their license if they revealed a patient's details."

"Well someone thought it was worth the risk," Harry says. "There's no one else Skeeter could have got all that information from."

*FPS*

Malfoy approaches him in the common room that evening, protesting his innocence again and Harry believes him after silently Wishing him to tell the truth.

*FPS*

By morning, his anger about the newspaper takes a backseat to his panic about the upcoming task. Even though he has a plan and is (mostly) confident he can survive the day, it doesn't detract from the fact that in just a few hours he'd be standing in front of a dragon and he really doesn't want to. He hardly touches his breakfast, but when the post arrives he gets something else to distract him. Dozens of owls fly down to land on the Slytherin table, all vying for him to take their letter first.

Cid and Tyler help him untie them all and he starts opening them to find messages from complete strangers. There are sympathies for what happened to him, offers to attack his uncle, offers to pay for private medical care, offers to give him a new home (the paper had said he was living with Sirius but not everyone believed in his innocence), thanks for defeating Voldemort when he was a baby, and good luck wishes for the tournament.

He finds an envelope with the Saint Mungo's seal on it and eagerly tears into that one, hoping it's Kirith replying about his eye, but inside all he finds is a small slip of parchment with a brief missive.

_Andrew Hopkins has been accused of breaking confidentiality before. – KK_

*FPS*

"Mr Evans, could you come up here please."

He looks up from the letter from Kirith to see that Dumbledore has been inundated with almost as many owls as he has. He gets up and goes to the staff table where Dumbledore hands him an envelope.

"These are all for you."

Harry looks at the envelope, frowning, but written on the front is _Harry Potter, Hogwarts_.

"Why did they come to you?" he asks Dumbledore.

"Names have power, Mr Evans. You haven't just been using a false name, you changed it right down to your soul. These owls knew they had to come to Hogwarts, but they couldn't find anyone called Harry Potter, so they delivered the letters to the head of the school."

*FPS*

He takes all the letters back to Slytherin and dumps the ones addressed to Harry Potter in the fireplace. If they can't be bothered to get his name right, he can't be bothered to read them.

*FPS*

He hardly pays attention in Herbology that morning or Arithmancy afterwards. At lunch he stares at his food until Snape comes to tell him that he needs to go down to the grounds.

*FPS*

"Are you ready?"

Harry nods, not trusting himself to speak.

"You'll do fine. There are wizards on guard to step in at a moments notice if something goes wrong. Just do your best."

*FPS*

His hands shake as he stands in the tent with the other champions, but they don't look much better. Fleur is pale and clammy, Krum looks even surlier than he normally does, and Diggory paces nervously.

*FPS*

Harry has to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers before putting a hand into the small bag containing the dragon models. He thinks his legs might give out when he pulls out a Hungarian Horntail and suddenly wishes he hadn't spent Sunday researching dragons. At least then he wouldn't know that Horntails are large, vicious, and can shoot flames up to fifty feet.

*FPS*

Sitting in the tent listening to the commentary as the other three fight their dragons doesn't help Harry's nerves. He's tempted to run away, school be damned. He'd go home, live with Sirius and Lupin for the rest of his life, what little there was left. Four years is more than five minutes, which is probably how long he'll last facing the Horntail.

*FPS*

The voice in his head is thankfully silent.

*FPS*

The Horntail doesn't move when he steps into the enclosure, as he'd thought it would. He'd expected it to charge towards him, but it remains hunched over its eggs, yellow eyes fixed on him, vicious tail swaying slightly. He swallows, steels his nerve, and raises his wand.

"_Accio Invisibility Cloak!_"

It seems to take an age to arrive. He'd left it tucked under his mattress just that morning and in the time it takes to reach him he thinks someone's nicked it and it's never going to arrive, but then he sees the fine cloth racing through the air towards him and he snatches it out of the air, throws it around his shoulders and disappears from view. He instantly feels calmer, which he knows is ridiculous because there's still a dragon in front of him, but there's a familiarity and comfort in being hidden. Now he just has to get the egg.

He Wishes the cloak to remain in place, keeping him hidden from view without having to worry that it'll slip and reveal him to the dragon. He ignores Bagman's commentary and the shouts from the spectators, eyes focused on the pile of eggs. He takes to the air, not worried about using his Wish Magic when no one can see him, and flies sideways first. Dragons are powerful creatures and he wants to be sure the cloak is enough to hide him from the Horntail before he dares approach it, but the dragon's eyes are scanning the ground in search of him and he slowly drifts forwards, his own gaze glancing between the dragon's eyes and the eggs.

*FPS*

Barty Crouch keeps Moody's magical eye fixed on Harry as he flies about for a bit before creeping along under the dragon, making sure his grizzled face doesn't show just how impressed he is. He's heard from Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort about Harry Evans' extraordinary powers but this is the first time he's seen it in person. He watches closely, knowing his master will want to know everything about the boy before the rebirthing ritual.

*FPS*

The eggs are nestled between the Horntail's front legs so even invisible as Harry is, it's dangerous. For the first time in his life he's grateful that he's small. Even so, his heart's in his throat as he creeps along underneath the dragon, Wishing for it not to notice him, for his footsteps to be silent, and his scent to be unnoticeable.

Something works. He gets to the eggs, grabs the golden one from amidst the pile, and then creeps out again. As soon as he thinks it's safe to, he takes to the air again, flies quickly back to the entrance of the enclosure, and only then removes his cloak and holds up the egg for everyone to see.

There's a thundering cheer. Bagman is shouting praises. Harry hurries out the enclosure as dragon keepers rush in to subdue the Horntail. He can't help grinning, adrenaline from the success coursing through him. Snape comes over, not smiling but with a definitely prideful glint in his eyes.

"That was very Slytherin of you, Evans," he says, which Harry thinks is high praise indeed.

_You definitely could have done worse. Congratulation on not getting us killed._

*FPS*

"You have a fucking invisibility cloak?!" Cid asks the minute he and Tyler come running over. "First the Boy Who Lived, now this. What the hell else are you keeping from us?"

"Oh, shut up, Cid. That was incredible," Tyler says. "You must have walked right under the dragon to get that egg."

"Fucking _insane_."

"It was pretty terrifying," Harry admits, though he's still grinning.

*FPS*

He misses his score being revealed because the adrenaline and stress of the last few days finally drive him to seizure. Even so, he insists on joining the other champions to hear Bagman's instructions for the next task despite his shaky legs and desperate urge to lie down and rest for several hours.

*FPS*

"Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth—but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open... see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg—because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

*FPS*

Cid and Tyler have headed back to Slytherin, but Hermione and Neville are waiting for him outside the tent now. Unfortunately so is Rita Skeeter.

"Harry! So glad I could catch you. Can I have a word? How did it feel facing the dragon? How do you feel now, about the fairness of the scores?"

_You should Wish her into the enclosure._

"You can have two words," Harry says. "Bugger off."

_You have no sense of excitement._

He's had enough excitement for one day, he thinks.

*FPS*

"That was incredible, Harry," Neville says as they walk up to the castle. "Pretending to make an Invisibility Cloak like that and then walking under that dragon. Wow..."

Harry looks at him in surprise. "That wasn't my Wish Magic. This is a real Invisibility Cloak," he says, holding up the arm over which the cloak is currently draped.

Hermione gasps. "Those are really rare though. Where'd you get it?"

"It was my dad's. Dumbledore had it, but he gave it to me Christmas my first year."

*FPS*

Slytherin is in full party mode by the time he gets there. He lets himself get pulled in and doesn't mind listening to their congratulations and praises as long as they let him sit in an armchair the whole time.

*FPS*

"Open it up then," Malfoy says after taking a look at the golden egg. "Let's see what it's all about."

Harry puts aside his bottle of butterbeer and takes it from him, sliding his fingernails into the groove and prising it open. It's empty but the moment he opens it a loud screeching fills the entire common room, making people slap their hands over their ears and shout at him to close it again. He does, ears still ringing.

"Well," Malfoy says. "Good luck fighting a banshee."

*FPS*

Harry goes to see Snape the day after the first task, taking the letter from Kirith with him and asking if Snape knows who Andrews Hopkins is.

"He was the one who discovered that Dumbledore's cuffs were killing you," Snape tells him. "Inform Black. He's your legal guardian; he can begin taking steps to sue Hopkins."

"You think I should do that?"

Snape raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to, but surely you want to? This is not just an issue of your identity being revealed; Hopkins gave out your private medical details. He broke confidentiality, he'll lose his healer's license for this."

*FPS*

The rest of the school doesn't seem to hate him so much after the first task, which makes the following weeks much better than the preceding ones. While the Hufflepuffs are still vehemently supporting Diggory, they at least stop making snide comments and sneers in the hallway and some of the Ravenclaws start supporting him as much as Diggory. The Gryffindors still refuse to, but that's no surprise. They weren't about to throw away centuries of inter-house rivalry even for the Boy Who Lived.

*FPS*

He writes to Sirius telling him about Hopkins and also detailing the first task, and gets a letter back promising Sirius will start dealing with Hopkins immediately and congratulating him about the tournament.

*FPS*

Snape keeps the Slytherins behind after Potions class in the first week of December to inform them all of the Yule Ball—and the fact that they weren't allowed to go as it was open to fourth years and up only unless invited by an older student. Harry, of course, is the exception. As a champion, he had to attend, which he's none too pleased about, and he's even less pleased to hear that he'd be expected to open the ball with a dance partner.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Snape says definitively.

*FPS*

Harry has no idea who he wants to go to the ball with but within a week he's had invitations from several girls and a couple of boys. He turns them all down; he doesn't want to go with someone he doesn't even know the name of.

"You know you have to take someone," Tyler tells him when he turns down a Ravenclaw fourth year girl, who stomps off angrily. "You can't go alone."

"They only want to go with me because I'm the Boy Who Lived."

"Very possible, but also irrelevant. You need a partner."

"Why don't you go with me then?"

Tyler looks at him with raised eyebrows. "Is that a genuine invitation or are you just saying that out of annoyance?"

"Um... genuine?"

"You want to say that once more with feeling?"

*FPS*

Why not, he figures. Tyler's a friend so Harry doesn't have to worry about feeling awkward around him. He's good looking, which is a plus. Harry still doesn't have a crush on anyone—and he might worry about that if he didn't have enough on his plate to worry about—but he thinks that if he ever did, he might have one on Tyler.

*FPS*

"Tyler, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Sure. But just so you know, I can't dance."

"That's alright, neither can I."

*FPS*

The egg continues to stump Harry for a while. He takes it up to the Room of Requirement to try and figure it out where he won't annoy the rest of Slytherin and spends a while shouting at it, Wishing it to make sense, asking it questions, shaking it vigorously, and even throwing it at a wall. But he doesn't have any success until he demands, in a moment of anger, "Just speak English."

*FPS*

"_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour—the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back_."

*FPS*

It takes him a while longer to figure out what the poem means. He takes the 'cannot sing above the ground' literally at first and thinks he's going to have to dig through the earth to find whatever it is the singers take, and spends a while wracking his brains trying to figure out what might be living underground that could take something from him, until he realises that it means in water, and then he has a whole other issue to deal with.

*FPS*

"I have a huge problem," he tells Hermione and Neville the afternoon of the last day of term. Classes have finished and they're sat in the courtyard, cloaks pulled tight against the light snow that's falling. "I figured out what my egg means."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Hermione says. "Now you can start working out how to complete the task."

"Except the task is that I have one hour to retrieve something from the mermaids in the lake."

"Oh," Hermione says understandingly. "So you need to find out how to breathe underwater. There must be a spell or something."

"There's a plant," Neville says. "It's called Gillyweed. It gives you gills and webbed hands and feet. It'd be perfect."

Hermione beams. "There you are," she says to Harry. "You just need to find some Gillyweed."

"That's great, and thanks, Neville, but there's still one more problem."

"What's that?"

"I can't swim."

*FPS*

The Dursleys had never wanted to pay for him to have lessons, living on the streets had never given him any opportunity to learn, and when he discovered Hogwarts he'd never thought about it. Now he really wishes he had.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Because it will be relevant in this chapter, please remember that many characters in this fic are teenagers who say things that are wrong and misinformed and they do not necessarily represent the knowledge of the author. Please reach the end of the chapter before deciding to rage-quit or stake me for misinformation. Also, this note is unrelated to the warning.

**Warning:** Male-on-male sexual harassment.

**Chapter 28**

Cid isn't happy as he watches Harry and Tyler get ready for the ball on Christmas evening. He's not one of the lucky third years to have snagged a date.

"Why couldn't you have asked me?" he says grumpily to Harry.

"You're not pretty enough," Harry replies, trying to ignore how self-conscious he feels in his dress robes.

"Manly, though, which is more than anyone can say about him."

"Clearly Harry likes his boys pretty rather than manly," Tyler retorts. Although still very androgynous, hitting puberty and putting up with Cid's vulgarity and rude sense of humour had made Tyler a little more relaxed about his appearance. He was still likely to hit anyone that called him a girl however.

*FPS*

"Looking good, Evans. Who's the... not a girl. You don't look so bad, either, Lyle."

Harry glances at Malfoy, who's wearing high-necked black robes that make him look like a vicar in Harry's opinion. "Thanks."

"It's Christmas, so I'm going to pretend you didn't nearly call me a girl, Malfoy."

Pansy Parkinson, hanging on Malfoy's arm and wearing frilly pink robes, glares at them both and drags Malfoy over to join the other fourth years as they leave the common room.

*FPS*

"I know we've teased you about it before, but I'm being perfectly serious now," Tyler says to Harry as they follow them out. "He fancies you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. Did you see the way he looked at you?"

"Um... normally?"

"No, he looked at you like he wanted to take your clothes off."

"He seemed pretty interested in you," Harry replies, uncomfortable with where their conversation's heading.

"Well, yeah, that's because I look good, but he's got the hots for you. I mean, he'd probably make out with me, but he wants to buy you chocolates and roses."

"If that's true, why's he going to the ball with Parkinson?"

"Didn't get up the nerve to ask you before you asked me? I don't know. But he does."

"Would you make out with him?"

Tyler shrugs. "Probably."

*FPS*

The Entrance Hall is milling with students in all colours of robes. Harry catches sight of Neville standing with Ginny Weasley by the main staircase, but he doesn't see Hermione anywhere. Tyler waves to Alex Stone, who's standing self-consciously beside a fifth year Hufflepuff boy who's quite a bit larger than him, and they see a few other third years that have managed to snag dates with an older student.

*FPS*

"Champions, over here, please!"

Harry holds out his arm to Tyler, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way, but Tyler slips his own arm through and nudges him playfully as they head over with the other champions to where McGonagall's standing. Fleur Delacour is with Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain; Diggory is with Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker; and Krum's with—

"Hermione?"

She turns and looks as surprised to see him with Tyler as he is to see her with Krum. "I didn't know you were gay," she blurts, and then flushes bright red. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive."

"It's okay," he assures her. "I'm not totally sure I am. It's a bit complicated."

"We're just going as friends," Tyler says. "If I find a cute girl or hot guy all alone I've got every intention of ditching him. That's a joke," he adds when they both look startled.

*FPS*

The house tables have been replaced by dozens of smaller round tables, and in place of the staff table is a large round one where the judges, champions, and their partners sit. Harry ends up sat beside Percy Weasley, who's there on behalf of Mr Crouch, who's too ill to attend. Percy nods stiffly to him, but they don't speak to each other.

*FPS*

When they've finished eating, they all get to their feet and Dumbledore sends the student tables to sit against the left wall with a wave of his wand then conjures a platform along the right wall, upon which the Weird Sisters clump out, all wearing artfully ripped clothes and carrying instruments.

"Ready to make a fool of ourselves?" Tyler asks.

"Not really," Harry replies, but gets to his feet and moves onto the dance floor with him.

*FPS*

It could be worse he thinks as they stand slowly revolving on the spot, but he really wishes the rest of the students weren't all staring and he's extremely grateful when they start filtering onto the dance floor and join in, taking the attention away from the champions a little.

*FPS*

"Um, Tyler? About what you said earlier... you can if you want."

"What did I say earlier?"

"About ditching me for... someone else. I don't mind."

"Way to make a guy feel appreciated," he says dryly, then laughs when Harry goes red. "You get embarrassed so easily."

"I-I-I just meant, y'know, we are here as friends and if... if there's someone you fancy and you want to dance with them or anything, I don't mind. I won't be jealous or whatever. I know I'm weird by not fancying anyone and I don't want you thinking you have to stay with me just because I asked you. I wouldn't even have come if I wasn't a champion."

"You're not weird for not fancying anyone. I actually asked Marcus about this whole sexuality stuff, and he told me there's more than just gay and straight and bi."

"How can there be more than that?"

"Well there's asexual, demisexual, pansexual, and then there was this stuff about biromantic and aromantic as well."

"I don't know what any of those things mean."

"Well I didn't really understand most of it either, but I asked more about pansexual, because I'm pretty sure I am that rather than just bi, and asexual because I think that's what you might be. It just means you don't want to have sex with anyone. You can still have romantic relationships, with like kissing and cuddling and all that sappy stuff, but you just don't have sex."

"What if I don't want a romantic relationship?"

"I think that's what the whole aromantic thing is. I don't know exactly. You should look into it."

*FPS*

It's not like he's completely non-sexual, Harry thinks. He has no inclination to fuck anyone, or engage in any of the other sexual activities that Cid claims are all kinds of awesome, but he still masturbates. Not as often as the other boys seem to, but he does it. He just never thinks of himself while he's doing it; his fantasies only ever involve other people, faceless figures of either gender pleasuring each other while he merely watches. He's not sure if that's normal or not and he's not about to ask, either.

*FPS*

"Wonder where Alex is?" Tyler muses as they stand at the drinks table later, standing on tiptoes to look around at the dancers. "I saw him earlier..."

"Maybe he went for a walk. It is kind of hot in here and they made the front lawn all fancy. Want to go out there?"

"Sure, why not? I'm just going to the bog first."

"Alright, I'll meet you out front."

*FPS*

A small garden has sprung up on the front lawn, complete with flickering fairy lights that are real fairies and roaming paths between rose bushes, interspaced with large stone statues. Harry waits on the front steps for Tyler and when he gets back they walk along the path. They come across Snape blasting bushes and docking points from trysting couples, and he nods a greeting to them, but they don't find Alex and his date.

*FPS*

"You want to head back inside? It's getting kind of chilly."

"You mind if I stay out here? I don't really fancy going back in, but you can."

"Sure. See you later."

*FPS*

_You could be spending this time reading._

Harry sits on a stone bench, one hand held in front of him with a conjured blue-winged butterfly sitting on his fingers.

_You have homework to do._

The butterfly takes flight, wings fluttering rapidly as it flits around in front of him.

_Go back to Slytherin. You're bored. _I'm _bored._

The butterfly lands on his nose and he smiles, reaching up a finger to gently nudge it off.

*FPS*

"Stop it... I said no, just get off..."

Harry vanishes the butterfly and turns his head to listen to the voices on the other side of the hedge he's sat in front of, frowning as he recognises the first as Alex.

"Come on," murmurs the second. "It's fine, just let me..."

"No, I don't—let go of me, I want to go back inside."

"In a bit. Don't be such a girl."

Harry stands from the bench, glances up and down the path then turns himself invisible and flies up, looking over the hedge to see Alex and his date a little way down, squeezed between the hedge and the castle. The fifth year has Alex pushed up against the castle wall and is forcing his hands under Alex's robes, ignoring the younger boy's efforts to push him away.

*FPS*

Harry drops down into the gap, makes himself visible and stalks forward, grabbing the fifth year's arm. "Get off him."

Alex looks immensely relieved. The fifth year sneers and shoves Harry back. "Sod off, Potter. This has got nothing to do with you."

Harry narrows his eyes and the fifth year's head jerks as if he's been punched. He staggers sideways and Alex immediately moves away, standing behind Harry, eyes wide.

"My name's Evans, and he's my friend."

*FPS*

He turns, taking Alex's hand and pulling him through the hedge. The other boy is shaking and Harry doesn't think it's entirely from cold.

"You okay?"

He nods shakily. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah I did. We're friends, and even if we weren't I'd have done it."

_How very admirable. How did you end up in Slytherin when you have a hero complex that rivals a Gryffindor?_

"We are? I mean, I haven't really talked to you at all this year and I have one of those badges that say you stink."

"It's fine," Harry says dismissively. "House loyalty thing, I get it. Let's go in-"

The fifth year bursts through the hedge and knocks into the two of them. They stagger and Alex trips on the hem of his robe. Harry stays on his feet but doesn't see the fist rushing towards his face. It hits him hard and he sees stars, then he's punched in the stomach and drops to his knees, groaning. He hears Alex shouting for help and then a knee slams into his jaw and his head's tossed back, blood filling his mouth as he drops onto the path.

*FPS*

He rolls onto his side, spitting blood, and then Snape's crouching beside him, hands wrapping around his arms and helping him to his feet. More blood fills his mouth and he spits it out again, but he's bitten his tongue so it just keeps coming.

"Hospital Wing," Snape orders, keeping one hand on Harry's arm as he guides him through the crowd that's gathered. Harry can hear McGonagall shouting furiously from somewhere behind him, but he's seeing double and can't quite find it in him to be glad.

_This is why we leave the heroics to the Gryffindors. We end up back in the Hospital Wing._

"Shut up," he mutters, and doesn't notice the odd glance Snape gives him.

*FPS*

It takes only a few taps of Pomfrey's wand to fix his tongue and his eye, which has swollen shut by the time they reach the Hospital Wing (but it's his left so at least his vision's not impaired any further than normal), but she says he has a concussion and has to stay in overnight.

*FPS*

"I'm sorry you got beat up because of me."

"It's fine. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but now you've got to stay in the hospital all night."

Harry scoffs. "That's nothing new. They might as well put my name on this bed. Really, Alex, I'm fine. What about the guy that hit me? What's his name anyway?"

"Kirby Dawson. McGonagall's furious, shouting about him beating up third years and embarrassing the school in front of guests. She took fifty house points and gave him a month of detention and took him to Professor Sprout. Snape was saying something about getting him expelled but they probably won't do that."

"Shame."

*FPS*

Pomfrey wakes him up every few hours that night to check he's not suffering seriously from the concussion, but he's fine and she lets him go after breakfast the next morning. He's surprised to find Cedric Diggory outside the Hospital Wing, very obviously waiting for him.

"Alright, Evans?"

"Fine, thanks."

"I wanted to come by and thank you for what you did last night."

"Oh, um... you're welcome?"

Diggory smiles. "Alex told me what Dawson did to him and how you stepped in. We have this buddy system in Hufflepuff and Alex is my 'little brother' so to speak, so I appreciate you looking out for him."

"Oh, well, y'know. Anyone would have."

"No, I don't think they would. You're a good guy, Evans. I've asked the rest of the house to get rid of those badges and, er..." He glances up and down the hall "your egg, does it wail when you open it?"

"Yeah, but I figured it out."

"Ah, alright, never mind then. Thanks again. I'll see you around."

*FPS*

"Why does Pansy Parkinson keep glaring at you?" Cid asks Tyler later that day. They and Harry are collected in the common room with most of the other Slytherins. There's a general air of lazy relaxation as no one feels like doing much after the night before. Harry's in an armchair with a book, Tyler's lounging nearby in another, and Cid's on the floor playing exploding snap with his sister.

Tyler glances over at Pansy, who is indeed shooting him murderous looks every so often, then he looks at Harry before answering, "I might have snogged Malfoy last night."

Harry's surprised, but Cid's so shocked he drops his handful of cards and they blow up, making him curse and jump to his feet, rubbing at the burns on his thighs and glaring half-heartedly at Layla as she giggles.

*FPS*

"Are you serious?" he asks when he's legs have stopped burning. "_Malfoy?_"

Tyler shrugs defensively. "He's a bit of a prat, but he's attractive. And he's a good kisser."

"He's also got the hots for Harry; the fuck's he doing kissing you? And you can stopping pulling that face," he says to Layla, who's looking over at Malfoy appreciatively. "You're too young to be kissing anyone."

Layla blows a raspberry at him.

"Harry's not interested in him," Tyler says. "Why shouldn't I have a go instead?"

"Well, hang on, what were you doing snogging Malfoy when you were Harry's date?"

"I don't care," Harry says. "He can snog whoever he likes. We only went as friends."

"Everyone thinks you're dating that Hufflepuff you saved last night anyway," Layla says, and they all look at her. "Laura Madley told me so; she's a Hufflepuff in my year."

"He is not," Tyler says. "Are you?"

"No."

"Good."

*FPS*

Snape accompanies him to Saint Mungo's on the twenty-ninth for his EEG and MRI. They both go smoothly and he's told to await a letter with Kirith's decision.

*FPS*

At breakfast on the first morning back at classes, Kirby Dawson approaches Harry at the Slytherin table and stiffly apologises for beating him up. He's obviously been ordered to and Harry accepts the apology only because he knows it'd look bad of him if he didn't, but half the Slytherin table still glare at Dawson as he walks away again.

*FPS*

Harry isn't really surprised to find out that Hagrid's a half-giant, but he doesn't really get why people are so bothered by it. He doesn't give a damn about the man, but he doesn't dislike him after reading Skeeter's article.

*FPS*

"We've come up with a solution to your swimming problem," Hermione says that same day, dropping into a chair beside Harry in the library while Neville sits on Harry's other side. "We're going to teach you."

"You're going to teach me to swim well enough to get to the bottom of the lake before the twenty-fourth of February?"

"It's not that hard," Neville tells him. "Most people learn when they're kids, so it'll be easy enough for a teenager."

"Also, you've got your Wish Magic," Hermione says. "If it comes to it, you can always just sort of Wish yourself to move through the water like you make yourself fly."

Harry looks at her in surprise, then frowns. "Why didn't I think of that?"

_Because you're an idiot._

He has to bite his tongue to avoid snottily asking the voice why it didn't think of it either.

*FPS*

"Harry, I was wondering about what you said at the Yule Ball..." Hermione says hesitantly.

Harry frowns. "What did I say?"

"About being gay, only you said you weren't sure. Are you bi?"

"Oh, that," he mumbles. He glances around, but there's no one nearby. Not that it really matters, but he doesn't want to discuss it in anyone's hearing. "I don't really know what I am."

"Surely you know whether you like boys or girls or both."

"I don't really like anyone. Y'know, as a... girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever. I don't fancy anyone."

"You don't fancy Tyler? Why'd you ask him to the ball then?"

"He's a friend and I had to take someone because I'm a champion. Do we have to talk about this?"

*FPS*

They tell him that they'll have swimming lessons at the lake, but Harry's having none of that. He's not making a fool of himself where everyone can see. Instead he finally tells them about the Room of Requirement, which they insist he show them immediately.

*FPS*

"Wow," Hermione says when they step into the Room, which has become a large swimming pool complete with foam floaties, a pile of flippers, and changing cubicles. "And this room can become anything?"

Harry nods. "It's where I slept that first year at Hogwarts. It just gave me a huge bedroom."

"This is cool," Neville says. "Definitely better than learning to swim in the lake."

Harry frowns suddenly. "I don't have any swimming trunks. Do you think I can get some in Hogsmeade?"

"Probably. There's a Hogsmeade weekend on the sixteenth, but the Room can give you some before then."

"We're not starting now, are we?"

"No time," Hermione says. "We can do it on Sunday."

Harry nods, looking at the calm water of the pool which suddenly seems quite scary.

*FPS*

That Friday's _Daily Prophet_ contains an article, not written by Rita Skeeter, reporting that Andrew Hopkins' healer's license had been permanently revoked as a result of his breaking patient confidentiality. The same morning, Harry gets a letter from home with the news that Hopkins had done it for a bribe from an unknown person and, unwilling to go to court, had agreed to a settlement and paid out two thousand galleons, which would be in Harry's Gringotts vault by the end of the month.

*FPS*

"I'm really not sure this is a good idea."

"You'll be fine, Harry," Hermione says. She's already in the pool, treading water and smiling encouragingly at Harry, who's sitting on the steps that lead into the shallow end. He's wearing a pair of swim shorts that make him feel incredibly skinny and pathetic, but he didn't want to wear trunks like Neville.

"I might have a seizure. I'm not supposed to swim unsupervised."

"You're not unsupervised. If you have one, we'll get you out quickly."

"We can always get Madam Pomfrey to sit in," Neville suggests, and Harry shakes his head. He's not learning to swim under Pomfrey's watch; this is humiliating enough as it is.

*FPS*

He doesn't even last fifteen minutes. He freaks out when they try teaching him to float on his back, convinced he's going to sink and drown even though he's still in water shallow enough that it only reaches his waist. He retreats to the steps and sits with a towel wrapped around his shoulders, only his feet in the water as he watches them swim around. They try convincing him to have another go, pointing out that he needs to be able to do it for the second task, but he shakes his head, stubbornly refusing to leave his spot and ignoring the insults the voice is sneering at him.

* * *

**A/N:** Tyler's definition of asexuality is vastly oversimplified and inaccurate. The actual definition of asexuality is an individual who does not experience sexual attraction to persons of any sex or gender. This does not mean asexual people don't have, or don't want to have, sex or that they necessarily find sex repulsive. If you need/want to know more, please research it; I will not answer questions about the details of asexuality, or other types of sexuality, when there is plenty of information on the web about it. I will, however, be making a post on the tumblr (link on my author's page) about the sexual orientation of various FPS characters and I'll accept questions about that.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Snape doesn't look up from his marking when there's a knock on his office door, just calls for entry and writes a scathing remark on Ron Weasley's essay. He does look up when the door clicks shut again, raising an eyebrow as Harry shuffles forward, staring at the floor and fidgeting.

"Is everything alright?"

"Do you know what the second task is?"

Snape frowns. "I am not telling you it when you have the means of learning it yourself. There is a difference between cheating and pure laziness."

Harry glances up. "That's not—I already figured it out. I just... I wanted to... ask... something."

"Extra precautions are being taken in consideration of your epilepsy. Your safety is top priority."

"I can't swim," Harry blurts.

Snape sets down his quill and leans back in his chair. "Ah."

"Sir, I... I know I've been not very nice to you sometimes and I know I attacked you that time—and I'm sorry about that—" (_No you're not,_ the voice whispers) "—but... I do trust you. Even though you didn't help me as a kid, you've helped me recently and you let me stay at your house and got me to see the healers and everything, and... please will teach me how to swim?"

*FPS*

Hermione and Neville are great and he does trust them, but not so much that he can relax enough to learn how to swim. He'd thought about getting Sirius or Lupin, but much that he likes them he hasn't known them long enough to really trust them with something like this. It has to be Snape, he'd realised. He might dislike him, and even that's fading, but he trusts him. Snape's saved his life before, helped him through seizures, seen him bleeding to death, supported him even when Harry hated him. Despite what he did (or didn't do) when Harry was little, when it comes to his safety now, there's no one Harry trusts more.

*FPS*

"I will, under the condition that you tell absolutely no one about it. Not your friends and especially not Black."

"Thank you! I wont, I promise."

"I will investigate local swimming pools. I'm sure you don't want to learn in the lake anymore than I want to teach you there."

"There's a swimming pool on the seventh floor."

"No, there—please tell me you didn't Wish a swimming pool into Hogwarts."

"I didn't. There's this room..."

*FPS*

_Won't this be fun? A nice bonding experience with our greasy Head of House. Did you consider whether he actually knows how to swim? That hair makes me think he might have a mortal fear of water._

'He wouldn't have said yes if he didn't know how.'

_Well, I suppose not, but you've got more faith in the man than I do. Have you considered that he might have been the one to enter you into the tournament? Now you've given him an excellent opportunity to drown us._

'There's no 'us' and if he wanted me dead he would have said no and let me drown during the task. So just shut up.'

*FPS*

He probably shouldn't respond because he'll only encourage it, but it's hard to ignore voices inside one's own head.

*FPS*

He walks down to Hogsmeade with Cid and Tyler on the sixteenth of January, but leaves them to visit the clothes shop alone. He really doesn't need Cid making rude remarks, as he undoubtedly would, but to his horror when he's looking through the selection of swimming shorts, Draco Malfoy appears right by him, sidling up on Harry's left so he doesn't notice until Malfoy's right beside him.

*FPS*

"Please tell me you're not going to get the red ones."

"What's wrong with the red ones?"

"Firstly, you're too pale to wear red this bright, and secondly, you're a _Slytherin_."

"Well firstly, I don't care what you think, and secondly, it's none of your business anyway. Go away."

"No," Malfoy says, now browsing through the trunks himself. "I'm assuming this has something to do with the second Triwizard task—I saw Krum diving into the lake on my way down here—and I'm not letting you go out in front of the whole school in Gryffindor colours. Here."

He holds up a pair of emerald green swimming trunks. Harry barely glances at them. "I want shorts."

Malfoy rolls his eyes, looking through the rack but finding no shorts in green. "Then go with the navy."

"So Ravenclaw colours are fine?" Harry says snottily.

"Navy, Evans, not blue. Do you know anything about colours? Or fashion, for that matter?"

"Clothes are clothes," Harry mutters. "As long as they're comfortable and warm, what does it matter?"

*FPS*

He does get the navy ones, but only because they don't have the red ones in his size.

*FPS*

He visits the apothecary afterwards to buy some gillyweed. Malfoy tags after him.

"Don't you have your own friends to go off with?"

"Vincent and Greg have got detention, Blaise and Theo didn't want to come down, and the girls aren't talking to me because of some girl code that says they have to ignore me or it means they think it's acceptable that I ditched Pansy and snogged Lyle at the Yule Ball."

"Oh," Harry says, unwilling to pursue that topic of conversation. Tyler and Cid are still convinced Malfoy fancies him and Harry doesn't know whether it's true or not, but he doesn't want to find out and have the awkward conversation that would inevitably follow. Thankfully, Malfoy seems content to walk the rest of the way to the apothecary in silence.

*FPS*

Neville hadn't specified how much gillyweed he'd need, so he buys plenty just to be safe. To his annoyance he bumps into Rita Skeeter as he leaves the shop and she tries to convince him to go to the Three Broomsticks for an interview. She says the readers are desperate for "an up close and personal piece on the Boy Who Lived". Harry tells her the readers can get up close and personal with the _Daily Prophet_ by shoving it up their arses.

*FPS*

"Relax."

"I am."

"No, you're not."

"Well how can I relax when I keep sinking?"

"Relax, and you'll stop sinking."

"That's completely unhelpful."

*FPS*

"I can't do it."

"With an attitude like that, you certainly can't."

"You're not helping!"

*FPS*

Harry sits on the steps, feet in the water, arms crossed and face twisted into a scowl. Snape's sat lower, so he's submerged up to the chest as he considers Harry.

"Did you take the Spirit Trance Potion this summer because you weren't able to reach a trance through meditation?"

"...Yeah. Why are you asking that?"

"Were you able to meditate at all?"

"Yeah, of course I could."

"Then you know how to relax."

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't at risk of drowning then."

"Is that what you're afraid of, drowning?"

"I'm not afraid, I just don't want to."

_What's that rhyme the Muggle kids used to sing? Liar, liar, pants on fire..._

"I'm not going to let you. I'm perfectly capable of hauling you out of the water, I know how to resuscitate a person, and that door leads straight into the Hospital Wing in the event that, Merlin forbid, something I can't handle does occur."

Harry looks at the second door in the room, which he'd assumed lead to some showers or something. "It does?"

"Yes. I am not an idiot, Harry. I was not going to teach an epileptic person how to swim without taking proper precautions. You are not going to drown. So are you ready to try again?"

*FPS*

Relaxing, it turns out, is the hardest part. When he eventually relaxes enough to float, the rest comes fairly easily and by the time Snape says they'll stop for the day, he can swim the width of the pool without touching the bottom.

*FPS*

"We will do this again next Sunday; you'll need to be confident swimming underwater for the task. Have you figured out how to breathe yet?"

Harry nods, Wishing his hair dry then, at Snape's request, doing the same for him so no one will question the eternally greasy-haired professor wondering around Hogwarts with wet hair in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. "Gillyweed. I already bought some."

"Good. Do _not_ come back here to practice alone. If I found out you have, you'll be spending every Saturday until the end of the year in detention."

*FPS*

When Hermione and Neville mention trying to teach him again, he says Sirius is doing it. He's worried they'll be offended that he found someone else to do it, but they just smile and wish him luck.

*FPS*

"YES!"

Heads turn all across the hall to look at Harry, clutching a letter in his hands and grinning so widely he thinks his face might split. He laughs with pure joy, jiggling in his seat, too delighted to keep still.

"What the fuck, Harry?" Cid says from next to him, rubbing his ear. "Think you burst my eardrum."

"I can get an eye! I can get an eye!"

*FPS*

By the time the 24th of February comes about, Harry's confident enough in the water that his worries are mostly focused on finding the stolen item before the time limit, and the possibility of having a seizure while he's under. He's researched the gillyweed and figured out how much he'll need to last him an hour, but takes an extra handful in his shorts pocket just in case; he's learnt the spell to defeat grindylows; and he's made a waterproof tracking arrow which he attaches to his medical bracelet with a bit of string. He's not totally sure how effective it will be; he's written _Harry Evans' stolen item for second Triwizard task,_ but it'd be a lot easier if he knew what they'd taken. He checked his trunk just that morning but everything had been in it; he sincerely hopes that they hadn't decided to take something from home, because he'll be mortified if he gets into the lake and finds they've got Kiwi—not to mention furious if they have and the lake water ruins her fur.

*FPS*

When he gets to the lake, as well as the judges and other champions, Madam Pomfrey and an unfamiliar woman are there. As the stands across the lake fill up with spectators and the champions get ready, Dumbledore beckons Harry over to the judges table and introduces him to the woman.

"Mr Evans, this is Amy Winchester, an emergency response healer."

"Hi, Harry, nice to meet you," Amy says with a smile, shaking Harry's hand. She's an unremarkable looking woman with mousy-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, face free of make-up, and wearing a pair of tracksuit trousers over a red and white swimsuit. She's got a small sports bag hanging from one shoulder.

"Miss Winchester will accompany you into the lake. She is there purely for the instance that you have a seizure; she has a portkey that will bring you both back to shore immediately. She is not permitted to assist you in any other way and you must not ask her to, as she has agreed to take Veritaserum at the end of the task to tell us if you asked for help. If she assists you in any way except for medical reasons, you will automatically receive no points for this task. Is that clear?"

Harry nods. "Yes, sir."

*FPS*

Amy tells him she'll be following him closely and shows him the hand signal he's to use if he needs her to get him out of the water, as well as ones for 'wait', 'go', 'up' and 'down', and then they and the other champions line up along the edge of the lake. Harry self-consciously strips to his swimming shorts while Amy puts her trousers in the sport bag and takes out a pair of flippers. Ludo Bagman amplifies his voice to introduce the task, taking a moment to mention Amy and explain why she was there, and Harry takes out his gillyweed, checks his still got the spare portion, and waits for the countdown.

*FPS*

Amy casts a spell that creates a large bubble around her head and although she doesn't have webbed hands like the gillyweed gives Harry, her flippers make her able to keep up with him fine. He swims out a little way towards the centre of the lake before pausing to activate his tracking arrow. Amy watches him curiously but says nothing, and Harry's glad when the arrow responds to his command, pointing further towards the centre of the lake. He hadn't bothered with putting a distance marker on it, nor does he specify for it to direct him, just lets it point directly (he hopes) to the stolen object, figuring anything more complicated was hardly necessary for in the lake.

*FPS*

He gets caught by a few grindylows but they're easily dealt with, and with the tracking arrow he comes up to the mermaids' dwellings shortly after hearing the snatch of song that says half his time has passed.

*FPS*

The stolen items turn out to be people—Hermione, Tyler, Cho Chang, and a young girl Harry assumes is Fleur's sister. For a brief moment he wonders if he's supposed to save Tyler or Hermione before realising that there's no one else that Tyler would be there for. He swims up to him, draws his wand, aims it at the weeds tying Tyler down, and casts the Cutting Curse. It slashes through the weeds and Harry wraps a hand around Tyler's arm, but doesn't swim up just yet, instead looking at the other hostages then around for any sign of the other champions.

_Don't even think about it. You've got yours, just go._

He decides to agree with the voice this one time. It's up to the other champions to save them, not him, and even though he's no longer completely terrified of drowning (he'll admit it to himself even if not to anyone else) he'd still much rather be on land than in water.

*FPS*

Fleur's already back on shore, having been forced to retire because of the grindylows. Harry's gillyweed is still in effect so he has to stay in the water, lying in the shallows with his gills submerged as he waits for it to stop working. Amy and Tyler get out and Tyler's instantly ambushed by Madam Pomfrey, wrapped in a blanket and forced to drink a potion that causes steam to gush from his ears, while Amy takes a towel from her bag, wraps it around her waist and goes to the judges table to take the Veritaserum.

*FPS*

The gillyweed wears off by the time the other champions return with their hostages and Harry gets wrapped in a towel and given a potion as well, which is hot enough to almost burn his tongue, but at least it chases away the chill that he'd started to feel as soon as the gillyweed wore off. The mermaids return with Gabrielle Delacour, who Harry had been correct to guess was Fleur's sister, and then the judges have a brief conference before announcing their scores.

*FPS*

"No problems with swimming now then?" Hermione asks Harry quietly while the judges are talking, brushing a beetle from her hair and speaking only loud enough for the two of them. Krum watches them with narrowed eyes.

"I still prefer flying, and walking, and pretty much anything else, but yeah, I did fine."

*FPS*

"Congratulations, Harry," Amy says afterwards, coming to shake his hand again. "It was nice meeting you and I'm glad I didn't have to do anything more than just accompany you."

"Me too. Thank you for coming."

*FPS*

"Nice one," Tyler says as they head back to the castle. Harry had come in first place and his total points now put him in the lead for the cup. "The rest of the house'll be happy. Looks like it's going to be a Slytherin victory for Hogwarts."

"There's still one more task yet," Harry reminds him, but he's feeling pretty confident about winning as well. He's starting to wonder why he ever objected to competing in the first place.

*FPS*

"You might want to see this."

Harry takes the copy of _Witch Weekly_ that Jia hands him a week after the second task and looks at the article on the centre page. He's not sure whether to be embarrassed or angry as he reads the short piece that claims he's a two-timing cheater who's dating both Tyler and Malfoy. The voice in his head thinks it's hilarious.

*FPS*

Pansy Parkinson slaps him, right in the middle of the crowded common room. No one stops her and several people clearly agree with the action.

"_You two-timing piece of half-blood scum!_" she shrieks, and slaps him again when he opens his mouth to defend himself. "How dare you treat Draco like this? You just wait until his father hears about this, then—"

"My father's likely already heard," Malfoy says, coming out of the boys corridor, "and I don't need you defending me, Pansy."

"Draco—"

"Have any of you actually bothered to check the facts before you all started thinking I'm some poor Hufflepuff sod who's getting messed about?" Malfoy asks the room at large, and several people look away. "Evans and I aren't dating. We never have dated. We're friends, nothing more."

"Just for the record," Tyler says from where he's sprawled in a chair, "the same goes for me. Harry and I haven't actually dated. Seriously, I've gone further with Malfoy than I have with Harry."

*FPS*

"You would tell us if you were going out with someone, wouldn't you?"

Harry lowers his book and looks across the library table at Hermione. "You've seen that article in _Witch Weekly_."

"Is it true?"

"No, it's not true. I'm not going out with anyone, Hermione."

"Okay," she says, dumping her bag on the table and sitting down. Harry watches her take a large Arithmancy text from her bag then some parchment, a quill, and an inkpot, and sets herself up to begin working.

"If I was going out with Malfoy, would you stop being my friend?"

"Why would you? He's a horrible person."

"There are worse people in Slytherin—in school," he says, thinking of Kirby Dawson.

Hermione looks at him, worrying at her lip for a moment, then asks, "Do you want to go out with him?"

"I don't want to go out with anyone, but if I did, would you stop being my friend?"

"Oh, of course not. We've been friends for years, Harry. I wouldn't dump you just because you wanted to go out with Malfoy, but that doesn't mean I'd approve and I certainly wouldn't hang out with him."

"I wouldn't expect you to," he replies with a smile, then notices Krum entering the library. The other champion looks around, notices Hermione and Harry, and immediately makes his way over to their table. "Your boyfriend's coming over. He doesn't look very happy."

Hermione looks around and gives a smile. "Hello, Viktor."

"Hello, Herm-own-ninny. May I join you?"

"Oh, um..." She glances at Harry, who shrugs. "Yes, I suppose."

Krum pulls out the chair beside her, sitting down and ignoring Harry completely.

*FPS*

After the article revealing Harry as the Boy Who Lived, the letters from strangers had tapered off after a couple of weeks, but the _Witch Weekly_ article brings more, most of which aren't friendly. Most of them just call him names and insult him for being a cheating scumbag, but others get extremely vicious towards him and defensive of Malfoy and Tyler (mostly Malfoy as his name is more well known). He even gets a few howlers. Unfortunately many people are still addressing their letters to Harry Potter so a couple of howlers burst open at the staff table. Dumbledore takes it all in stride; when Harry had mentioned that he didn't want any of those letters, Dumbledore agreed to burn them for him instead of calling him up to the staff table on the mornings they came.

*FPS*

The school's reaction to the article is more complicated. On the one hand, they want to vilify Harry for being a two-timer, but doing so means they have sympathy for Malfoy, who's not particularly popular among the rest of the school. People seem to forget that Tyler's as much a supposed victim as Malfoy is. The Gryffindors solution is to completely ignore it all, deciding that Slytherin drama is not worth their attention. The Hufflepuffs, being more concerned with loyalty, would rather be thought to have sympathy for Malfoy than side with a cheater. The Ravenclaws are the only ones who take the time to find out if anything in the article is actually true or not.

The entire thing comes to a head a week later when Malfoy and Tyler, in what Harry later discovers was a planned event, get caught enthusiastically making out in a broom cupboard in the Entrance Hall right before dinner one day. The two supposed victims of Harry's treachery being caught together confuses things enough that the rest of the school decide to take after the Gryffindors and ignore the entire tangled mess.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Kirith Karpel had sent a booklet on various magical eyes with her letter. Harry looks through it, has a discussion with Snape, and writes home before eventually deciding that he'll get one that could look through things and one that was normal. The magical one wouldn't be as large and obnoxious as Moody's, which Kirith mentions would have been given before research progressed to more regular looking fake eyes. He'd only wanted the magical one, but Snape informed him he'd have to have a normal one for both the third Triwizard task and for his exams—especially his OWLs and NEWTs when he took them—as the magical eye could be used to cheat. He sends a letter to Kirith with his decision and it's arranged for him to have them fitted on the fourteenth of April, in the Easter holidays.

He also has to sit, squirming with embarrassment the entire time, through a lecture from Snape on appropriate behaviour when he has a magical eye, and that if he uses it for spying on people then he'll be forbidden from wearing it at school. Harry has absolutely no intention on using his eye for anything that Snape's implying, despite Cid's vulgar suggestions about what he would do if he had an eye that could see through things.

*FPS*

Snape takes him to Saint Mungo's, but Sirius meets them there. Harry's almost shaking from nerves and excitement and he's grateful when the two men don't start insulting each other. They merely acknowledge each other's presence then Snape wishes Harry luck and tells him he'll see him tomorrow and floos away again.

"Ready, kid?" Sirius asks him.

"Yeah," he says nervously.

*FPS*

As well as Kirith, Harry's introduced to a neuro-healer called Novak and they describe the procedure to him. He'll be given a Calming Draught and a Pain Suppressant then they'll remove his left eye. Had he not wanted a magical eye, they would have left it and simply created the nerves, but as he would be changing his eyes he needed them both to be false. Afterwards Novak would work on making the nerves and connecting them to the two eyeballs, while Kirith sits to speak with Harry and conduct small tests to make sure that the new nerves don't interfere with any other parts of his brain, and to be on guard for a seizure. If he has one that lasts even seconds during the nerve creation, it could seriously interfere with the procedure, mess up the new nerves, and cause other damage in his brain.

"It's not half as scary as it sounds," Kirith assures him. "We've done this plenty of times before with absolutely no trouble. You'll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow and disgusting your friends by taking your eyes out at the dinner table."

*FPS*

Harry's not sure if Kirith is right that it's not as scary as it sounds, or if that's just the Calming Draught doing it's work. Either way, he's perfectly relaxed as he sits in the chair, Novak standing over him and Kirith in front of him. He feels nothing when they take out his eye and when they're making the nerves he gets occasional flashes of colour or random images in his vision, but they say that's normal.

*FPS*

The voice remains completely silent throughout the procedure, for which he's grateful.

*FPS*

"Okay, you're going to get a lot more flashing images now," Novak tells him when they're about to cast the spell creating a connection between his new nerves and the eyeballs, "but it'll be of the room. You're going to see doubles and it might be disorientating, but it shouldn't last long. We've done the hardest part now. So you ready?"

"Yeah."

*FPS*

They do the normal one first, slipping the eyeball into his socket and then casting the spell. He sees four of everything as Novak's chanting the spell and it takes a few minutes to fade to normal when he's finished. Novak does a complete eye exam afterwards, getting him to read a short extract, identify pictures, and check his peripheral vision. The entire room seems much bigger now he has greater peripherals and he wonders how much of the world he's missed by only having one working eye, wonders how many things have been happening on his left that he's never noticed.

When Novak's satisfied it's all working fine, he pops the eye out and puts it in a little pot filled with a special potion that keeps it clean, then puts in the magical eye. The spell connecting the nerves for this one is longer and the disorientation worse as images start coming to him not just of the room but of things outside it. He can see people walking along corridors, almost like seeing coloured ghosts, and looking at Kirith is incredibly disturbing. He can see the woman, but also see through her clothes, and through _her_ to the wall beyond, though that's as far as the x-ray vision goes; the magic only allowed him to look through so many layers. It takes longer for the double vision to fade this time and the test afterwards takes longer as Novak checks his range of extra vision. When Harry has to look at him or the other people in the room, he keeps his gaze fixed firmly on their faces, which Novak notices.

"You'll quickly learn to control what you see," he tells him, and Harry feels his face flush red. "It's not difficult and the novelty of it will wear off soon enough. You should find a comfortable level that will become the norm, and then you just concentrate to increase or decrease your field of vision."

*FPS*

Although the procedure goes fine and by dinner he's perfectly ready to go back, they want to keep him in overnight. Kirith thinks the stress of the procedure might trigger a seizure and they want to make sure it doesn't affect the newly created nerves if he does.

*FPS*

"So how does it feel?" Sirius asks him when he's set up in a bed on the ward.

"Weird," Harry answers honestly. He's still got the magical eye in; he wants to get used to it as much as possible before he returns to Hogwarts.

"But you're happy with it?"

_Absolutely_, purrs the voice in his head. _This extra vision is remarkable. I expect it to come in use a great deal._

"Definitely," Harry says aloud. Sirius grins, watching the false eye spin in it's socket. Harry finds it simultaneously fascinating and disturbing to look through his own head.

"Shame you couldn't get that one green as well," Sirius remarks as the eye looks forward again, showing the electric blue iris. It's the size and shape of a normal eye, unlike Moody's, but still very obviously magic just by it's colour. His normal one, however, is almost the exact same shade of green as his right eye and only someone looking closely would be able to tell it was fake when it's in.

*FPS*

He seizes during the night without ever waking up. In the morning Kirith does an EEG and shows Harry again how to remove and put in his eyes, making sure he can do it himself, and gives him a leaflet on proper eye care, then she declares him perfectly fine and free to go.

*FPS*

He still has to concentrate to not look through people's clothes by the time he floos back to Hogwarts, but at least he can do it. Pomfrey greets him with a smile and asks how he is and he forces a smile back and says he's great then hurriedly leaves, trying to forget the glimpse of her wrinkled body that he'd seen before he could control himself.

*FPS*

He's instantly the centre of attention in Slytherin, with people asking how it feels, what he can see, and threats about what'll happen to him if anyone thinks he's looking through their clothes or into the bathrooms. He assures them vigorously that he'll do no such thing and obliges when they want to see him take it out and put in the other one, which draws disgusted noises from a few of them.

_Clothes, bathrooms... they're all so obsessed with their bodies. There are so many more things we can use this for; who cares about their bodily privacy?_

Harry ignores it. The voice has already made several suggestions on what he could do, but as uninclined as he is to spy on people in showers, he's even less inclined to break into the Ministry and spy on people there.

*FPS*

At the end of May, Harry and the other champions are called down to the Quidditch pitch where they find a maze being grown, much to the horror of Cedric Diggory, though Ludo Bagman assures him the pitch will be back to normal after the task, for which they'll have to get to the centre of the maze, fighting past creatures from Hagrid, spells, and various other obstacles.

"'E will of course 'ave to remove zat eye," Fleur remarks when Bagman asks if they have any questions.

"Ah, yes, Mr Evans, you'll not be permitted to use your magical eye during the task."

"Yeah, I have a normal one as well."

"'Ow will we know zat you are not wearing zis one?" Fleur demands, clearly sceptical about Harry's honesty.

"The other one's green."

"The judges will ensure he's not cheating," Bagman says hurriedly before they can dissolve into a full blown argument. "Are there any more questions?"

*FPS*

Harry leaves the pitch feeling confident that he'll win the tournament. He's sure he can defeat anything he comes across and navigating the maze will be easy enough with a tracking arrow. He doesn't ask if he's allowed to bring anything with him; he figures that if they weren't, Bagman would have specified.

*FPS*

_We've got this tournament won already. You really ought to start thinking about what you're going to do with the prize money, and that two grand you got from the healer that sold you out to Skeeter, and that fortune in your vault. You've only got three years left to live and I highly doubt you're going to have a child in that time, so you should spend it on something worthwhile. That money won't be any use to you in hell._

"Can I get rid of you in hell?" he growls as he enters the Entrance Hall, then realises he's spoken aloud when Diggory looks at him, startled. "Sorry, talking to myself," he mutters, and hurries off to the Slytherin entrance to the dungeons.

_I can see Skeeter's next headline now: Harry Evans, the Boy Who Lived in Madness_.

"Shut up."

*FPS*

He falls asleep in History of Magic the following Monday and dreams about Voldemort. He sees him in a darkened room with Wormtail, talking about someone who'd been killed and mentioning that Wormtail would not be fed to the large snake curled on the floor, that Harry would be fed to it instead, and then Voldemort lifts a wand and murmurs, "_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

"Harry! _Harry!_"

He's lying on the floor of the classroom, clutching at his scar, which is hurting so much it's bringing tears to his eyes, and he can see through to the classroom below where McGonagall's teaching a class of first years. He jerks up, blinking and forcing his vision to limit itself to his own classroom. His classmates are all staring at him and Tyler and Cid are crouched over him, looking worried.

"Sir, I'll take him to the Hospital Wing," Tyler says to Binns.

Harry doesn't argue with him.

*FPS*

"You okay? That wasn't like your normal seizures."

"It wasn't a seizure," Harry tells him, rubbing at his scar. "I fell asleep and had a dream, that's all."

"Seems more like a nightmare to me."

"Yeah. Look, you don't need to walk me to the Hospital Wing."

Tyler snorts. "Are you kidding? I'm not passing up the opportunity to skip out on History class."

Harry can hardly argue with that; it might be his favourite subject but Binns is a terrible teacher.

*FPS*

Pomfrey gets him a pain reliever for his headache and insists on sticking him in a bed and checking him over. Kirith had said to keep a closer check on him after seizures for a while after the nerve creation, just to make sure there were no complications. He doesn't mind; he's used to being poked and prodded by healers by now so he just sits there and lets her get on with it.

*FPS*

He writes home about the dream and his scar hurting. A day later, he gets called up to Dumbledore's office where the headmaster asks him to describe the dream in more detail, then asks him if the scar had hurt any other times lately. Harry mentions the time in the summer when he'd woke up with it hurting, and Dumbledore frowns pensively, pacing the floor until Harry clears his throat.

"My apologies," Dumbledore says quietly and sits back at his desk.

"Sir, do you know why my scar's been hurting?"

"I have a theory," he answers slowly. "It is my belief that it hurts when Lord Voldemort is near you, or when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"Why?"

"That is no ordinary scar, Harry. You and he are connected by the failed curse."

"So that dream I had, that really happened?"

_Oh well done, genius._

"It is possible. Probable, I would say."

"Do you think Voldemort's getting stronger?"

The voice in his head is silent. Harry thinks it's as interested in Dumbledore's answer as he is.

"Yes," Dumbledore says. "I think he may be."

*FPS*

His confidence about the third task lasts ten days, right up until he's in the library researching spells he might need to know and Neville idly mentions Boggarts and the possibility of there being one in the maze.

*FPS*

"Sir, do you know what happens when you stab a Boggart?"

Snape stares at Harry for a moment then drawls, "I have end of year exams to write; I do not have time for guessing games."

"What? No, that's not—I realised that there might be Boggarts in the maze in the third task."

"So you plan to stab it if there is? Evans, you're a powerful wizard."

"And my worst fear is being as powerless as a Muggle. I can't fight a Boggart with magic, not even Wish Magic."

Snape frowns. "Evans, the man—"

"It doesn't matter," Harry interrupts. "I'll let you get back to writing exams. Sorry to bother you."

"Evans, sit down."

Snape's tone broaches no argument. Harry sits, staring at his hands.

"Who was the man that your Boggart turned into?"

"No one important."

"You are a terrible liar, Harry."

"It was no one. Just someone I met once. He's not a danger to me if that's what you think."

Snape clearly doesn't believe him, but he realises Harry's not going to talk. "I don't know what would happen if you stabbed a Boggart, but I imagine it would give you enough time to run away."

*FPS*

The morning of the third task dawns brightly and brings with it another unpleasant news article from Rita Skeeter. At first Harry reads it with only a vague interest in seeing what crap she's writing now, but then it mentions his leaving History of Magic a few weeks back, complaining about his scar hurting and, to his absolute horror, claims that Harry talks to himself on a regular basis and speculates the possibility that between Voldemort's failed killing curse and Vernon's abuse, it's entirely possible that he's insane.

*FPS*

"Hey, Evans, how's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

Harry looks over at the Gryffindor table where Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan are laughing and holding their own newspaper. Harry lets his magical eye rolls back in it's socket so only the white is showing and cocks his head to one side to stare unblinking at them. The newspaper in Ron's hand crumbles to dust.

"Be careful if I were you, Weasley," he calls back to them. "You might just set me off."

"I'm not sure that's the best way to convince people you're not crazy," Tyler says. "And how did you make the newspaper do that?"

"I wished for it," he answers vaguely, making Tyler furrow his brow in confusion. "It's not like anyone will believe me anyway."

"We know you're not crazy," Malfoy says from a few seats down. "Well... mostly."

"Thanks," Harry says dryly, and Malfoy smirks.

*FPS*

Snape comes up to Harry just as he's finishing eating and tells him the champions are congregating in the chamber just off the hall to greet their families, who have come up to watch the last task. The scowl on his face tells Harry that Sirius and Lupin are already there and he shovels down the rest of his breakfast, says goodbye to Tyler and Cid, and hurries off to the side room. He's the first champion there but he ignores the other adults in the room and goes straight to Sirius, grinning at him.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey. Didn't Remus come?"

"Full moon last night; he didn't quite feel up to coming today, but he says good luck."

"That's okay," Harry says quickly, not wanting to seem like he considered Lupin's health less important than him. "I'm glad you're here."

*FPS*

They spend the morning walking around the grounds, Sirius telling him stories from when he was at Hogwarts and the things he, James, Lupin, and Pettigrew got up to. Harry hangs onto his every word, delighted to hear stories involving his dad and the occasional one involving Lily, who hadn't started dating James until their seventh year.

*FPS*

"Um, Sirius? Where you going?"

Sirius pauses, looking at Harry then glancing at the Gryffindor table then at the Slytherin one. "Right. You're not a Gryffindor."

"Nope."

"You're going to make me sit at the Slytherin table, aren't you?"

"Well, I can't sit anywhere else."

"Oh, Merlin, forgive me. C'mon then."

*FPS*

They sit on the end so Sirius at least doesn't have to sit next to anyone but Harry. Cid and Tyler join them and Malfoy somehow manages to get a seat beside Harry despite being late to lunch. Sirius gives him a dirty look over Harry's head. Malfoy pretends not to notice.

"Nice to see you again, cousin."

"You're cousins?" Tyler asks.

"First cousins once removed," Malfoy clarifies.

"Unfortunately," Sirius says.

"So, Mr Black, what's it like in- ow!"

Harry glares at Cid, who reaches down to rub his leg.

"Don't call me that," Sirius says, pretending he hadn't known what Cid was gong to ask. "Mr Black sounds old and responsible."

"Responsible you're definitely not," Harry quips, grinning. "But old..."

"Watch your mouth, kid. I'm young enough to—"

*FPS*

"Sirius Black!"

"Such an honour!"

"We're very interested in you, sir."

"Oh, yes, absolutely. Incredible wizard."

"Can we interest you in a toffee?"

"Custard cream?"

"I wouldn't if I were you," Harry warns Sirius, eying the Weasley Twins suspiciously. Malfoy, Cid, and Tyler are looking equally suspicious. "They're pranksters."

"And I doubt they very much like me," Sirius says, looking at the treats in the twins' hands. "I did scare the crap out of their brother last year."

"Did you?" Fred says.

"I think I remember something about a break in," George muses.

"Oh yeah, now you mention it..."

"Terrified poor Ronniekins."

"But surely you wouldn't think, sir, that we'd dare to try trick a known criminal."

George shakes his head dramatically. "Terrible risk, that would be. Wouldn't dare. Not even for our own blood."

"I don't believe that for a second," Sirius says good-naturedly. "Remus told me about you two. You were good enough to get your hands on the Map and figure it out; you've probably got the nerve to take a little revenge for your kid brother."

*FPS*

Fred and George snatch their hands back, the treats disappearing into pockets as their faces turn serious. "You know about the Map?"

"What map?" Tyler asks curiously.

Harry looks at the twins in surprise. "They had the Map?"

"_You_ know about the Map?" George says.

Cid looks confused. Malfoy looks intrigued. Tyler looks annoyed. "What map?"

"My map," Sirius says with a grin.

"_My_ map," Harry corrects. "You gave it to me."

"Excuse you," George says, "I think you'll find that was our map first, and we'd quite like it back."

"You lost it," Sirius replies. "Remus confiscated it, and it's Harry's by right anyway."

"That map has to be earned," Fred counters. "He can't claim it just because you gave it to him."

"How did _you_ get it anyway?" George asks suspiciously.

"Remus gave it to me, and I gave it to Harry, who earned it by right of blood."

"Right of blood?" George repeats with a frown, and then his jaw drops. "No way!"

"Not possible," Fred says.

*FPS*

"Weasleys, move along," McGonagall says, walking down between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw table to where they are. "Classes are starting soon."

"We've got a free period," Fred says without taking his eyes off Harry. "Are you telling us—"

"—that Evans is related to the Marauders?"

"The Marauders?" Tyler repeats, now looking extremely annoyed that he doesn't know what's going on.

"Oh, good heavens," McGonagall mutters. "This is the last thing I need. Weasleys, move along. Mr Evans, I'm sure your godfather would like to go somewhere else."

"I'm alright here actually, professor," Sirius says with a grin. "You're right he's related to the Marauders. Boys, meet the son of James Potter, better known to his friends as Prongs."

The twins' jaws drop. McGonagall looks like she wants to bang her head against a wall.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?!" Tyler demands.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"What are you doing talking to _them_?"

Harry scowls, his magical eye turning to watch Ron leave the Great Hall and approach where he, Sirius, and the twins are standing in the Entrance Hall after McGonagall had insisted they move.

"It's called having a conversation," Fred replies. "Don't you have a class to get to?"

"He's a murderer, and _he's_ crazy."

"He's innocent," Harry retorts, "and I'm not crazy."

"_He_ has a name," Sirius says, frowning slightly. "Why are you calling my godson crazy?"

"Haven't you seen today's paper?" Harry asks him. "Skeeter wrote another article about me, saying I'm insane."

Sirius scoffs. "The crazy ones are the people who believe anything that woman writes."

_Do you think he'd still say that if he knew you heard voices?_

'_A _voice,' Harry thinks. 'And I'm ignoring you today.'

_I do believe that sounds like a challenge._

*FPS*

"Just because the papers say you're innocent doesn't mean you are," Ron says.

"Do you really think Dumbledore would have let me into the school if I wasn't innocent?"

"You tried to kill me."

_Shame he failed, don't you think?_

"I wasn't trying to kill you, I was just trying to get your rat. I realise I didn't go about it in perhaps the right way, and I'm sorry for that."

"My rat? What would you want with Scabbers?" Ron asks just as the bell for afternoon classes rings.

"I wanted to kill him."

"Sirius, you're supposed to be trying to convince him you're not a crazy criminal," Harry says.

_Oh don't spoil the fun._

*FPS*

"Twenty points from Gryffindor. You three are meant to be in classes."

Everyone but Harry turns a glare on Snape.

"Don't be a git, Snape," Sirius says, and the three Weasleys look at him in surprise, the twins clearly struggling not to grin. "The twins have a free period and the bell's only just rung."

"Which is when classes begin. You two should be in the library or your common room, not loitering in the hallway, and you," he says to Ron, "should be in class. Move along, all of you."

Ron slouches off with a scowl. The twins ask Sirius to come with them to the library and he readily agrees. Snape watches them go, hatred twisting his features.

*FPS*

"Professor _Lupin_ was a Marauder?"

"You know what they say about the quiet ones," Sirius replies with a grin.

"So if you're Padfoot, Evans' dad is Prongs, and Lupin's Moony, who's Wormtail?"

Sirius' face darkens instantly. "Wormtail's a treacherous rat who lost the right to call himself a Marauder long ago."

Fred and George glance at each other and decide it's safest if they don't ask further.

*FPS*

Harry's content to sit in the library for the afternoon, reading a book while Sirius and the twins exchange stories about pranks, and the twins reveal their ambition to start a joke shop and the ideas they've already come up with. Unfortunately he struggles to focus on eighteenth century goblin wars when the voice is giving a running commentary on Sirius and the twins' discussion, insulting the twins' inventions, insulting Sirius for thinking they're any good, and making snide remarks about how many of their pranks sound a lot like bullying. He's glad when the bell rings and the twins have to leave to go to class.

*FPS*

"What you reading?"

"Goblins wars," Harry answers, closing the book and pushing it away, "but I couldn't really concentrate."

"Nervous about the task?"

Harry shrugs. "Yeah, I guess."

"I'm sure you'll do fine, kid. Sounds like the easiest one to me."

"Yeah. That reminds me, I need to change my eye before it starts."

"Where is it, back at Slytherin? Let's head down and do that then."

*FPS*

"Hasn't changed much," Sirius remarks when they reach the common room then, when Harry looks at him in surprise, adds, "You think me and your dad never snuck in here? We put pink dye in the shower heads in our seventh year."

_Bullies_, sing-songs the voice in his head.

*FPS*

He makes his tracking arrow while he's there and takes the pocket knife that Sirius had given him for Christmas. Sirius watches him pocket both and then take his eye from the drawer of his bedside cabinet and pop out his magical one.

"Are you allowed to take those into the maze with you?"

"They never said we _couldn't_ take things into the maze," he answers, slipping the normal eye in and blinking until it settles in place.

"Fair enough."

*FPS*

Sirius doesn't make such a fuss about sitting at the Slytherin table during dinner. When Harry and the other champions leave to go down the Quidditch pitch, Sirius gives him a one armed hug and wishes him luck. Applause and cheers follow him out and he inhales shakily as he leaves.

_Relax. We'll be fine. You can win this, then I've got some ideas about what to do with that money. Also, I hope you plan to exploit the attention everyone will give you for winning. I've been thinking that the hierarchy in Slytherin needs remodelling. There's a lot of rich, powerful, and stupid kids who we can manipulate to—_

"Shut up," he mutters, and ignores the odd look he gets from Diggory.

*FPS*

The hedges covering the Quidditch pitch are now twenty feet high. The four champions stand with Ludo Bagman at the gap marking the entrance, while McGonagall, Moody, Hagrid, and Flitwick set off around the maze, there to come and get them if they decide they've had enough and need rescuing. Bagman tells Harry that Moody will be keeping his magical eye on Harry the whole time in the event of a seizure; Harry says he doesn't want rescuing unless it happens while facing an obstacle and he's in mortal danger. He can handle seizures; he's not letting them stop him from winning the tournament.

*FPS*

As the champion with the most points, he's the first one into the maze. He casts _Lumos_ as soon as he's in, the starlit sky providing little light to guide him. He hurries forward until he comes to a fork and glances behind him before digging in his pocket for his tracking arrow. It reads simply _centre of the maze_ and when he orders it to direct him, it spins and points right. He turns that way, following the hedge along, and hears the whistle that means Diggory, who was second for points, has entered the maze.

*FPS*

He comes across one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts, a ten foot long creature that seemed to be half-scorpion and half-lobster, armed with a sharp point on it's tail and blasting fire out of it's backside. He's heard about them from Hermione and Neville, who were studying them in class during the first term, but they hadn't said they were so big.

_Why in all nine hells does Dumbledore allow that half-giant monster to work here?!_ the voice says, and Harry's inclined to agree with it. He Wishes the Skrewt motionless and runs under it, hoping the freezing would keep it from blasting fire as well.

*FPS*

_It's not him!_ screams the voice. _It's a Boggart! Stab it!_

He grabs the knife, staggering away from the Boggart-Crowley as he fumbles to get the blade out, then standing his ground and slashing it at the man. It cuts across his stomach and he staggers, but doesn't bleed. Harry lunges forward, this time thrusting the knife, driving it into the man's chest, drawing it out then doing it again. The Boggart stumbles and Harry shoves it into a bush, then rushes past, thinking only that he needs to get away. He doesn't slow down until he can conjure a butterfly, then he has to stand and breathe for a moment, surrounded by a swarm of butterflies just to reassure himself he can still do magic.

*FPS*

He straightens up when he hears the scream, heart still racing from the adrenaline of facing the Boggart.

_That was the Delacour girl. Looks like we're one champion down._

'She could be hurt,' he thinks, looking up and seeing no red sparks flying into the air to signify that she needs help.

_Who cares? It's none of our concern. She doesn't even like you, thinks you're a good for nothing little cheat. Why should you concern yourself with her?_

It's right, of course, but he feels a little guilty as he carries on along the maze.

*FPS*

He almost tumbles into a marshy-swamp when he rounds one corner, stepping one foot into it and then leaping back when the finned paws of a dugbog try to grab his ankle. The creature snaps its razor sharp teeth unhappily but goes back to sitting motionless like a dead log. He shakes off water from his foot, glances up to gauge how high the hedges are then decides he's got enough height to levitate himself up and fly over the swamp rather than turning to go back and find a different route.

*FPS*

"What are you doing? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry grinds to a halt, hearing Diggory's panicked voice directly on the other side of the hedge, and then he hears Krum's voice.

"_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

He doesn't even think about it, just turns himself invisible, flies up and over the hedge and down onto the other side, where Krum's standing over a shrieking, twitching Diggory. Harry jerks his hand and Krum's thrown off his feet, hurtling through the air then hitting the ground. He doesn't get up again. Harry turns visible and rushes over to Diggory, who's stopped screaming and lies panting and twitching slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Diggory pants, letting Harry help him to his feet. "I don't believe it... he crept up on me, I heard him, turned, and he had his wand on me... I thought he was alright."

"I never really liked him."

"We should send up red sparks. What did you do, stun him?"

"Yeah," Harry lies as Diggory raises his wand and shoots sparks in the sky.

_Should have killed him. Another bully. Amazing how many there are, don't you think? So many people willing to abuse their power._

*FPS*

He stumbles across a patch of Devil's Snare that's easily destroyed with a blast of fire, although he's careful not the burn the bushes of the maze, and then he comes up to a spell of some kind. He's not sure what; there's a shimmer in the air, like the gleam of a bubble in sunlight, reaching across the width of the maze and stretching as high as the tops of the bushes, making him unsure if he'll be able to fly over it. He peers closely, not touching and trying to figure out what it does, but there's no indication. He takes out his knife and pokes the shimmer. The tip of the blade slips through as though the shimmer isn't even there, not breaking it nor appearing in anyway damaged when he draws it out again. Shrugging, he pockets it and steps forward.

Pitch blackness engulfs him and he freezes. He can see absolutely nothing and he's suddenly completely certain that the entire world has simply ceased to exist, that he and the wand gripped tightly in one hand are the only things left in existence and the rest of his life will be spent stuck in this pitch blackness.

_No!_ the voice shouts violently. _No, I don't like it. Do something. Do something right now. I don't care what, just do something and get me out!_

He steps forward and suddenly the maze reappears around him . He stands blinking for a moment, waiting for his eyes to readjust, then looks behind him at the deceptively calm shimmer of air. He shivers and hurries forward, pausing briefly around the corner to consult his tracking arrow before running on and then skidding to a halt when he reaches a T-junction. He glances left, sees only more bushes, then right and his breath catches—at the end, gleaming on a plinth fifty yards ahead, is the Triwizard Cup.

*FPS*

He's barely started running towards it when he hears a voice yell, "_Impedimenta!_"

He's knocked off his feet and tossed forwards onto the ground, but when he tries to get up it's like wading through sludge. He hears footsteps and then Diggory sidles past him, grinning cockily.

"Sorry, Evans, but—"

A giant spider crashes onto their path from the left and skitters over Diggory, sending him tumbling to the ground and knocking the wand from his hand. It bears down on him, pincers clicking, and Diggory can only stare up at it in horror.

"Freeze!" Harry yells, but he's still got his wand in one hand and instead of just becoming motionless, the spider freezes solid, ice crystals forming along the hairs of its body and all along its pincers.

"Oops," he says, and the voice in his head sniggers.

*FPS*

Harry throws off the Impedimenta Jinx at the same time Diggory scrambles to his feet and grabs his wand and they stare at each other between the frozen spider legs.

_Hex him and go get the cup!_

Harry doesn't.

_Get the cup! He didn't hesitate to hex us. Return the favour and get it so we win!_

"Did I hear that right? You just yelled at that spider and..."

"Um... yeah."

_Oh, and now we're revealing secrets. Do you want to tell him about me while you're at it? What's next, dropping your pants and letting him bugger you?_

"Are you alright? You've gone red."

"I'm fine," Harry says, then clears his throat. "I'm fine." He gestures at the cup twenty feet beyond Diggory. "You going to get that?"

_What are you doing, you half-brained moron?!_

Diggory glances over his shoulder then looks back at Harry. "Not sure I deserve it. That's twice you've said my arse in here. Feel bad about jinxing you now."

_Yes, yes, take advantage of his stupid Hufflepuff morality._

"I'm not sure the rest of the school will be impressed if the underage Slytherin takes the cup, and it was fair play. Not like you turned on me like Krum turned."

"Yeah." He looks around again, then, "This isn't about our houses, though. It's a Hogwarts win, either way, and underage or not, you made it this far and saved my life twice. You deserve to win."

_Oh come on,_ the voice moans. _Listen to him. We did this. Just take the cup._

"Both of us," Harry says. "Like you said, it's a Hogwarts victory and if we both take it, none of the houses can complain."

_What? No, no, no, that's not what I meant._

"Alright," Diggory agrees. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Harry scurries under the spider and joins Diggory in approaching the cup, ignoring the voice and counting to three before they both wrap a hand around the cup's handles, then there's a familiar jerk in his navel and his feet leave the ground.

*FPS*

He slams into the ground and his knees give way. The cup slips from his fingers and he lifts his head.

"Where are we?"

_Good question_, says the voice, and for the first time all day it's not mocking or abusive.

"I don't know," Diggory says, getting to his feet. Harry does the same, looking around. They're standing in a graveyard, miles from the school—there's no sign of the castle or the surrounding mountains.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?" Harry asks and Diggory shakes his head.

_I don't think this is part of the tournament. What are those lines on the ground?_

Harry looks. There are marks painted on the grass, surrounding them on all sides. He draws his wand to light it and get a better look, but the Lumos spell doesn't work. He frowns, tries again, and then attempts Wish Magic. Nothing works.

"Fuck."

*FPS*

"Someone's coming."

Harry spins, looking in the direction Diggory's pointing. A hunched, cloaked figure is approaching them from between the gravestones, carrying a bundle in its arms. Diggory raises his wand and Harry clutches his own in his left hand, taking out his knife with his right.

The figure stops just beyond the marks painted on the ground. Pain explodes across Harry's scar and he staggers, dropping to his knees, wand and knife slipping from his fingers as he reaches up to clutch at his head.

"Kill the spare."

He's knows it's no good but he still tries to throw up a shield, to Apparate, to Wish them to safety, but nothing stops the screeching voice: "_Avada Kedavra!_"

There's a flash of green light and something thuds down beside him. The pain in his head spikes and he retches, then it fades and he opens his eyes, breathing hard and blinking away tears, and looks to his side. Diggory's lying spread eagled beside him, eyes staring blankly at the sky, mouth still half-open in surprise, completely dead.

_We're fucked._

*FPS*

The figure points their wand again. Harry's hands jerk off the floor and he falls forwards, face hitting the grass as his hands are yanked behind him and ropes bind themselves around his wrists. He squirms, struggling to roll over and push himself up, but the figure is approaching him now. They've put down the bundle but taken something from it and when they reach Harry he realises it's a cloak, which the figure puts around Harry's shoulders. As they do, Harry sees their left hand, which is missing a finger.

"You!" he snarls, trying to get to his feet. "I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

*FPS*

Wormtail glances at him, frightened, but grabs him by the arms and starts dragging him over to one of the gravestones. He takes him past the circle of lines—_runes_, the voice provides, _magic suppression runes, just like on the cloak of that Assistant guy, just like Dumbledore's cuffs_—and Harry immediately tries to Wish him stunned, but it doesn't work. Wormtail shoves him down against the gravestone—the name on which reads _Tom Riddle_, Harry notices—pulls closed the cloak he'd put around Harry, and murmurs a spell to hold it in place.

_The rat paid attention_, the voice says as Wormtail conjures ropes to tie Harry to the gravestone_. The cloak's covered in runes, just like the Assistant's. We're still powerless, but why? What's he doing? What's in that bundle he has?_

Harry doesn't know, but he's starting to think he doesn't want to know either.

*FPS*

When he's bound, Wormtail shoves a piece of black cloth in Harry's mouth then skitters away, disappearing from Harry's line of vision. The bundle he'd been carrying is resting at the foot of the grave, just six feet in front of Harry and when he looks at it his scar burns.

*FPS*

Wormtail returns with a large stone cauldron full of liquid, puffing and panting as he pushes it forwards. The thing in the bundle of robes stirs and a huge snake circles the grave. Harry watches as Wormtail pulls open the robes and he lets out a cry of revulsion as he sees the repulsive, hairless, red-eyed thing inside. Wormtail lifts it off the ground, drops it into the cauldron, and then turns to the grave over which Harry's tied.

*FPS*

"_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son_!"

Something white and powdery rises from the ground under Harry, floats through the air and drops into the cauldron, the contents of which turn vivid blue.

*FPS*

"_Flesh_—_of the servant—w-willingly given—you will—revive—your master._"

Harry watches, disturbed, as Wormtail takes a dagger from his robes and cuts off his own hand, letting it drop into the cauldron and turning the potion bright red.

*FPS*

"_B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe._"

He can't fight, the ropes too tight and his arms trapped uncomfortably behind him, and Wormtail, now whimpering pathetically, cuts the dagger along Harry's cheek then holds a vial up to the wound, taking several drops of blood which he pours into the cauldron.

*FPS*

It instantly turns blindingly white. Wormtail staggers away and drops to his knees, gasping and sobbing. Harry watches the cauldron, sees the potion give off a billow of white smoke, then sees, to his horror, a skeletally thin man rising from inside.

*FPS*

"Robe me," says a high, cold voice from behind the smoke, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambles to pick up the black robes from the ground, gets to his feet, reaches up, and pulls them one-handed over his master's head.

_Lord Voldemort has risen again._

Harry really doesn't need the voice in his head to tell him that.

* * *

**A/N:** Stand by for a second chapter today.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** This is one of my favourite chapters and we're finally going find out about Lucius' secret prisoner. Hope you're all excited!

**Chapter 32**

A blond man stands on the path to Hogsmeade, wrapped in a dark green cloak and invisible to anyone who might pass, with his left sleeve pushed up to show the black tattoo on his forearm. When it burns, he laughs, twirls with delight, then Apparates away.

*FPS*

There's blood in Harry's mouth and a familiar weakness along his right side. His head pounds, all his muscles ache, and his wrists feel bloody. Voldemort is crouched in front of him.

*FPS*

"It is true," Voldemort says with a cruel, mirthless smile. "You are a diseased, weak child."

Harry coughs. The cloth has been removed from his mouth and blood and spit dribble down his chin. "I'm not diseased," he says weakly. "It's a brain disorder, and if you really believed I was weak you wouldn't have tied me up and stolen my magic."

*FPS*

There's the sound of swishing cloaks as robed and masked figures appear, Apparating into the graveyard. Voldemort rises and moves away and Harry watches the newcomers move forwards, almost hesitant as they approach Voldemort, drop to their knees and kiss the hem of his robes before backing up again, rising and forming a circle around Voldemort, Harry, and Wormtail.

*FPS*

The Assistant leaves the graveyard as soon as he arrives, unseen by anyone. He has fulfilled his Master's commands of answering the summons; now he is free to pursue his own ends.

*FPS*

_This is what I want. People who bend before me, people who fear me, worship me. If we survive this, this is what we will seek to achieve. Voldemort can get these men to bow to him. With your power we will have the whole world kneeling at our feet._

'Demon deal,' Harry thinks, and it gets across everything he needs to say.

*FPS*

Narcissa Malfoy is never aware of the Assistant Apparating, silent and invisible, into her husband's cellar. She paces the sitting room, restless as she waits for Lucius to return from the Lord he hasn't seen in fourteen years.

*FPS*

The Assistant pricks his thumb with merely a thought, presses it to the back wall of the cellar, and the invisible door swings open. The man inside the room sits up, lifting a hand to shade his eyes as the torch on the wall flickers to life. When he's adjusted to it, he squints up at the Assistant.

"You're not Master," he says hoarsely.

"No, I'm not Master. Up you get, we're going out."

The man shrinks back against the wall. "I have to stay. Master will be angry if I leave."

"I'm a friend of your master. He sent me for you."

The man squints at him suspiciously. "Master has never sent anyone for me."

The Assistant crouches in front of the man and pushes up the sleeve of his left arm, baring the Dark Mark. "Is this proof enough for you? I am a friend of your master and his lord."

The man flicks his brown eyes from the Mark to the Assistant's face then back down again. "Master really sent you for me?"

"Yes. Give me your hand, and we'll go."

The man hesitates then cautiously places his hand in the Assistant's. The Assistant's fingers curl around it and his other hand grabs the man's arm, then they both Disapparate.

*FPS*

"Welcome, Death Eaters. Fourteen years... Fourteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday... We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! _Or are we_? I smell guilt. I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact—such prompt appearances!—and I ask myself... why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty? And I answer myself, they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment... And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort... perhaps they now pay allegiance to another... perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

*FPS*

One of the Death Eaters throws himself forward, spouting apologies and pleading mercy. Voldemort points his wand and murmurs, "_Crucio!_" and the man shrieks, writhing on the ground.

_Fool_, the voice murmurs uncaringly.

"Get up, Avery. Lord Voldemort does not forgive. I want fourteen years of repayment before I forgive. Wormtail has already repaid some of his debt, haven't you, Wormtail?"

"Master..." Wormtail sobs, and Harry can't help idly agreeing with the voice as it sneers at the pathetic man. "Please... master..."

"You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you? You returned to me out of fear, fear of your old friends, not loyalty to me. But you restored me to my body. Worthless and pathetic as you are, your helped me, and Lord Voldemort rewards those who help him."

*FPS*

The Assistant and the man reappear in the kitchen of Black Stag House. The Assistant straightens up, but the man remains on the floor, covering his eyes against the brightness of the well-lit kitchen.

"Remus!"

Footsteps hurry through from the sitting room. Lupin stops in the doorway, grabbing his wand from his pocket and lifting it to point at the Assistant.

"What are you doing here?"

The Assistant steps aside, revealing the man on the floor. Lupin glances at him, eyes going wide, hand dropping.

"That's not possible!"

The man lifts his head, lowering his arm and squinting up at Lupin, who can only gape at him.

"You may want to take him to Saint Mungo's," the Assistant suggests. "He's not going to be the man you think he is. I have to go, I have other work to do."

"Wait! I don't understand. Where...?"

"Malfoy Manor. It was all Lucius, understand. Narcissa and Draco never knew. Probably. Narcissa _might_ have, but she usually doesn't, and Draco never does."

"What?"

"Just... Saint Mungo's. He'll need a lot of help. Do that before you try to contact Sirius or anyone else. You have to."

He lifts a hand and taps two fingers to his head in a salute then vanishes from view before Disapparating.

*FPS*

_Well that's entirely unfair. How long did you spend in that wretched hospital to receive your eyes? And yet this rat gets a new hand in mere moments. We're under the wrong health plan, clearly. Do you think he includes dental?_

Harry laughs. It's weak, short-lived, and contains little mirth, but it draws Voldemort's attention and elicits murmurs from the Death Eaters. Harry thinks he shouldn't be responding to the voice so much, but he's bound, powerless, and tied to a gravestone while Lord Voldemort stands before him. Insanity, he thinks, is the least of his worries.

*FPS*

"Do you find something amusing?" Voldemort asks in his cold voice.

"He wants to know if you include dental in your healthcare plan."

There a pregnant pause. Harry wishes he could move even to just squirm a little. He's stiff and sore and he's got pins and needles in his left arm.

"You dare to mock Lord Voldemort?"

_He does like to talk about himself in the third person, doesn't he?_

"Do you think it's a sign of madness?"

_I think a boy who hears voices has no place discussing the madness of others._

"I think the voice in the head of a boy who hears voices has no place discussing the madness of others."

_Touché_.

*FPS*

"Wormtail did not mention your madness," Voldemort says quietly.

"It's a recent development," Harry tells him. "Are you—"

_Don't ask him if he's going to kill you, moron!_

"Why not?"

_You will give him ideas_.

Harry giggles. Voldemort and the Death Eaters stare at him. Harry lifts his head to look at Voldemort.

"There's this voice inside my head. I've been hearing it for a while now, but I haven't told anyone. I didn't want them thinking I'm mad, you see, but I don't think it matters anymore. Anyway, he thinks if I ask you if you're going to kill me, then I'd be giving you ideas. I guess he forgot that you tried to kill me twice already. Three times if you include your diary."

The Death Eaters seem to collectively hold their breath. Harry looks around at them then back at Voldemort.

"Should I not have mentioned that you kept a diary?"

"_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

Every nerve in his body is being pinched in a vice. His blood is on fire and his bones have turned to ice. This is pain beyond anything he's felt before, beyond anything he's imagined, and the screams coming from his mouth are echoed by the voice in his head.

*FPS*

There's mere seconds between when Voldemort stops the curse and when Harry starts to seize. Voldemort turns away, uncaring, to assess his Death Eaters. Only when Harry stops moving and goes limp against the ropes does Voldemort pause.

"Lucius, check if he's alive," he says carelessly before carrying on. "Crabbe, Goyle, you will do better this time, will you not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Of course, my lord."

Lucius looks around from where he's crouched before Harry. "He's alive, my lord, but unconscious."

"Leave him for now."

*FPS*

The first thing he sees is grass. It's blurry and swaying and he blinks at it. His head hurts, a steady, pulsing throb on the back of his skull, which feels oddly warm. His muscles are aching furiously and he desperately wants to sleep. There's more blood in his mouth.

A hand grips his chin and forces his head up. More pain pulses through his scar and he moans but he doesn't have the energy to pull his head away. Blood bubbles between his lips and dribbles down his chin. Voldemort is crouched before him, cold, skeletal fingers holding his chin, red eyes staring hatefully at him.

*FPS*

A loud crack draws their attention to a figure Apparating into the graveyard.

"Sorry I'm late," calls a cheerful voice, and the Assistant nonchalantly strolls forwards, a grin on his face as he plants his hands on the shoulders of one of the Death Eaters and stands on tiptoes to look over their shoulder to Voldemort. "I had to take a brief trip to Malfoy Manor first."

There's a sharp inhale from the Death Eater whose shoulders the Assistant grabbed, and he jerks away, spinning and drawing a wand, the tip of which he shoves against the Assistant's throat.

"If you touched a _hair _on my wife's head," Lucius snarls, but the Assistant cuts him off.

"Relax, Luci, she never even knew I was there. You little pet, however... I might have freed him from his chains."

*FPS*

Voldemort lets go of Harry and rises to stand straight. "Who's your friend, Lucius?" he asks in a tone that says he's about to start hurting people.

"I've never seen him before in my life, my lord."

The Assistant lifts a hand and taps two fingers to his head in a salute. "Hello! I'm the Assistant. I'm sure you've heard about me from Peter over there. Oh, look you've given him the hand. I always feel you shouldn't bother. He never survives, y'know, and really, it's only Peter. He's hardly worth the effort. Oh, the kid's not looking so good, is he? Let's have a look at that."

The figure in front of Lucius flickers and vanishes.

*FPS*

"Mmhm... nasty head injury here. You awake there, Harry?"

The Death Eaters spin, all of them drawing wands to aim at the Assistant, who's crouched beside Harry, inspecting the back of his head, which is bleeding profusely after smacking back against the headstone during his seizure.

"You're the 'ssistant," Harry mumbles blearily.

"Uh huh, glad you remember me. Hold still and I'll fix this up."

"Kill him!"

Thirty wands suddenly jump into the air and there are shocked cries from the Death Eaters as they look up, a few of them jumping to try and grab their wands back, but they're too high to reach. Only Voldemort keeps his. Nagini lunges towards the Assistant, baring her fangs in a hiss, only to slam into an invisible wall and drop to the grass, stunned. The Assistant doesn't even look up.

*FPS*

Harry feels a warm tingling sensation along the back of his head and some of the pain fades away. It doesn't ease the post-seizure fuzziness but his vision clears a little and he lifts his head, feeling a hand slip away from his hair as he looks at the Assistant.

"Better?"

"Bit," he mumbles. He tries to spit some of the blood from his mouth, but manages only to send more dripping down his face. At least it's not in his mouth, he figures.

*FPS*

Voldemort snarls a curse. The Assistant grabs the edge of his cloak and pulls it up, shielding Harry, and the curse bounces off harmlessly. The Assistant rises, turning to face Voldemort.

"Care to try again? I haven't really had a chance to properly test the cloak this time around. Not that she'll fail me of course, she never does, but it's nice to give her a test run, y'know?"

"You call your cloak 'she'?" sneers one of the Death Eaters, and the Assistant looks affronted.

"Don't diss my cloak, Preston. That was Preston, wasn't it? So hard to tell you apart behind those masks, but I'm pretty sure that's you. It's that distinctive drawl; I'd recognise it anywhere. Are you still addicted to oranges?"

"Silence!" Voldemort demands, his wand still on the Assistant. "Tell me who you are."

*FPS*

"I'm the Assistant. I assist people. Hence Assistant. Oh, look! That must the Diggory boy."

There's a crack and the Assistant disappears and reappears beside Diggory's dead body, crouching down to look at him, reaching over to slide his eyelids shut. "Such a waste. D'you know, he always dies. I haven't figured out why. It's odd, really. I mean, he's not important in the grand scheme of things, but he _always_ dies. He's a Key Point but I can't for the life of me figure out why. Still," he says with a sigh. "These things happen. Oh look, a wand. And a knife. These must be yours, Harry."

"Are you here to help me?" Harry asks weakly.

"Ah," he says, rising to stand again. "Well. Maybe. We'll see. Do you expect me to? I did enable Peter to escape last year, thus inadvertently causing the entire chain of events that lead to you being here and Voldemort returning. You can thank me for that later, by the way," he adds to Voldemort.

"You will not help him," Voldemort says. The Assistant's hand twitches.

"I really wish you hadn't said that."

"The boy will die tonight!"

"The boy will not," the Assistant retorts, then adds as an after thought, "Hopefully."

*FPS*

"Whose side are you on?" demands one of the Death Eaters.

"Ah, well, there's a tricky question," the Assistant replies, walking back towards the group. "Excuse me, can I get through? Ta very mu- well that's not very nice," he says as Crabbe and Goyle grab him by the arms.

"Bring him to me."

They march him forwards and Voldemort lights his wand, lifting it and inspecting the Assistant's face.

"Who are you?"

"I've answered that already. You're getting quite repetitive."

"How did you know to come here?"

"Same way the rest of 'em did."

"Show me his arm."

Crabbe shifts his grip and pushes up the Assistant's left sleeve, baring his forearm. Voldemort inspects the Dark Mark, presses his wand to it and murmuring a spell. The Assistant jerks and groans. Voldemort frowns.

*FPS*

Harry's watching Voldemort and the Assistant so he jumps when a figure appears next to him. Or at least, jumps as much as he can when he's tied up as he is. When he turns his head and finds himself looking at the Assistant, his jaw drops.

"Illusion," says the Assistant crouched beside him. "Extremely useful. I recommend practising them. What's he done to stop your magic?"

Harry looks from him to the Assistant still stood between Crabbe and Goyle, then back again. "Wha- I don't understand. How are you...? I'm seeing things," he concludes. He must be. First voices, now hallucinations.

_Progressive insanity. What's next, I wonder._

*FPS*

"Keep your madness to yourself, boy," Voldemort says without looking away from the Assistant in front of him, who's trembling as he stands between Crabbe and Goyle, a sweat breaking out on his face and his breathing harsh and painful. "What is wrong with you?"

"How long you got?" the Assistant gasps, then groans as his legs go weak, making him stagger and leaving the two Death Eaters as the only things holding him up.

*FPS*

"Like I said, illusion, and you can speak freely now. He won't hear you. I'm something of an expert when it comes to sensory manipulation."

"Oh," Harry says, because he's not sure what else to say and the voice isn't providing anything.

"I'm still stood between those two hulks," the Assistant says, glancing over. "What you're talking to isn't real, but as I said, I'm an expert at sensory manipulation. Now tell me, how's he stopping your magic? There's no runes on the ground."

"Cloak," he answers.

The Assistant tuts. "Thief, stealing my ideas. Alright, I'm going to free you, but keep a glamour up so no one notices. I want you to sneak over to Cedric and then summon the Triwizard Cup, which will take you both back to Hogwarts."

"There's runes—" he starts, but the Assistant interrupts him.

"Scrubbed. You'll be fine."

*FPS*

"Drop him."

Crabbe and Goyle let go and the Assistant drops to his hands and knees, back arching, fingers curling into the grass, trembling all over and whimpering painfully.

"My lord," Lucius says suddenly, "if I may...?"

Voldemort glances at him. "Speak quickly, Lucius."

"Fuck you, Lucius," the Assistant growls between clenched teeth. "Oh, bloody Merlin's dick on a pancake, this fucking hurts."

*FPS*

Harry doesn't argue with the Assistant or ask questions. Real or imagined, he's helping him and Harry's not about to argue with that. The ropes fall away, both the ones tying him to the gravestone and the one's around his wrists, and he struggles to pull the cloak over his head, fighting against the charm Wormtail had cast to keep it in place.

"Go," the Assistant says when he finally gets it off. "Make sure you take Cedric's body and be quick. I can't keep this up much longer."

The image disappears. Harry turns himself invisible but remains crouched as he slips around the gravestone, stepping over the motionless Nagini, slipping through a gap between the Death Eaters and over to Diggory. When he glances back, he sees himself still tied to the gravestone, watching the trembling Assistant with confused and fearful eyes. He looks away again, grabs his wand and knife from the ground and shoves them in his pocket, wraps a hand around Diggory's wrist, and wordlessly summons the Triwizard Cup.

*FPS*

"My lord, have you ever heard—"

"The boy's gone!"

Voldemort spins, eyes landing on the pile of ropes and the cloak by the gravestone. The Assistant crumples, whimpering slightly as the tremors coursing through him begin to lessen. Voldemort gives a scream of fury.

"YOU! You did this!"

"Me," the Assistant gasps weakly. Wands drop from the sky and the Death Eaters lunge for them; a moment of confusion ensues as they tried to figure out whose wand is whose. Voldemort's own wand fixes instantly on the Assistant.

"_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

It's Wormtail who scurries forward and fumbles to remove the cloak from the twitching, screaming man, pulling it away then turning it inside out and throwing it back over him. Instantly the blond hair turns to a light brown, longer than the fluffy mop he'd had a moment ago. Voldemort stops the curse, moving to crouch and peer at the Assistant's face again. The Assistant breathes harshly, still twitching slightly, but stares back defiantly. His eyes are no longer blue, his round face has turned oval, his skin a shade paler, his features a little more defined, and there's a shadow of beard growth along his jaw.

"Impossible," Voldemort whispers.

"Think there's a lot of that going around tonight. Now if you'll excuse me, you really should have bound me before you stopped torturing me."

He jerks up, slamming his head against Voldemort's, and throws off the cloak, conjuring a shield just in time to defend himself from the curses the Death Eaters throw to try and stop him. He swings the cloak around, and Disapparates with a crack as it settles, right way in, over his shoulders.

*FPS*

"I need to ask you a few questions."

Lupin drags his gaze away from the unconscious man in the bed, his wrists tied in restraints to keep him from attacking anyone when he wakes up, as he had when Lupin first brought him to the hospital, and looks at the healer who'd spoken to him. She's young, probably only a healer-in-training, and carrying a clipboard and a pen.

"Of course."

"First things first, what's his name?"

Lupin looks back at the man, gazing at him for a long moment before he answers.

"James Potter."


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** I've reached over a hundred reviews! Thank you everyone and I hope you continue to enjoy this fic enough to keep reviewing. Your input is always appreciated and makes me smile giddily whenever I read it.

**Chapter 33**

Harry's not sure what happens after he leaves the graveyard. He thinks he must have had a seizure because the next thing he knows he's sitting in a chair and someone's forcing a potion down his throat. He swallows instinctively and feels some of the post-seizure fuzziness easing away. His head's pounding and he feels sick, but he blinks hard, trying to make his blurry vision clear, and the image of Mad-Eye Moody comes into focus in front of him.

*FPS*

"What happened, Evans?"

"I don't—Voldemort was—there was a portkey key and—" He breaks off, lifting a hand to his head, wishing it would stop hurting so much. He can't think clearly. Even his voice is distant, wavering; it's trying to tell him something, he thinks, but he can't hear it properly.

"What about Voldemort? Did you see him?"

"He came back. There was a potion, and Wormtail, and there were Death Eaters... I need to go to the hospital. My head..."

"Soon, boy. Tell me about the Dark Lord. How did he come back?"

"A-a potion. He took stuff—Wormtail made stuff come out of the ground, and cut off his hand, and took my blood and... and I don't know... I seized, and my head... my head..."

He trails off, lifting a hand to his head.

"I'll get you to the hospital. You need to tell me what happened first. The Death Eaters, did they return?"

Harry nods slightly. "They were there and the Assistant. I think, I don't... I was seeing things, and—"

He breaks off with a pained gasp as Moody grabs his shoulders and shakes him vigorously.

"Tell me—"

Moody's thrown backwards, crashing against the wall with a cry and sliding to the floor. Harry forces himself to his feet, then staggers, grabbing the chair for support.

"You... you—I knew you weren't trust-"

*FPS*

"Harry? C'mon, kid, up you get. Sit up, come on."

Hands wrap around his arms and start to lift him off the floor, then his stomach lurches and he throws up.

*FPS*

"Dumbledore, he needs to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Not yet. Harry, look at me. Can you hear me?"

He's leant against Sirius and Dumbledore's crouched in front of him, his expression stern like Harry's only ever seen the time he turned the headmaster into a slug.

"Yes," he says weakly. He can taste blood and vomit. His head still throbs.

"I—" Dumbledore begins, but the door to the room opens and Snape comes in. He takes one look at Harry and his face turns furious.

"Why is he still here? He needs to get to the Hospital Wing."

"He will, Severus, soon. First he needs to hear what happened tonight. He needs to understand, so that he can begin to accept, and then to recover."

"The hell he needs to hear—"

But there's a sharp gasp and Harry realises McGonagall's in the room as well. She's staring over at Moody, who's lying on the floor, unconscious. His face is twisting and morphing, his magical eye popping out to be replaced by a real one, his wooden leg falls away with a clump and a real leg grows back in it's place, until it's no longer Moody lying on the floor, but Barty Crouch Junior.

*FPS*

Harry listens silently, only half-awake, as Crouch answers Dumbledore's questions and tells the story of how, after his arrest for the torture of Alice and Frank Longbottom, his father had snuck him out of Azkaban and kept him hidden at home, controlled by the Imperius; how Crouch had begun to fight back and at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before had stolen a wand from Ginny Weasley, using it to send the Dark Mark into the sky; how Voldemort had learnt of his existence and come to request his help, asking Crouch to pose as Moody and take his place as the Defence teacher at Hogwarts; how he'd been the one to put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire, how he was supposed to assist Harry through the tasks if need be, but been unable to because of the instant dislike Harry took to him; how he'd been the one to get Hopkins to reveal Harry's identity to Skeeter so everyone would realise that Harry's death was also the death of the Boy Who Lived; how he'd taken the Triwizard Cup to the maze that evening and turned it into a portkey that would take Harry to the graveyard where Wormtail and Voldemort were waiting for him.

"It worked," Crouch says finally. "I felt the burn of my master's calling tonight. Lord Voldemort has risen again."

*FPS*

When Dumbledore says he wants Harry to come up to his office before going to the Hospital Wing, Snape, McGonagall, and Sirius object and a brief argument ensues until Harry begs, "Please stop shouting."

Sirius, who'd been the one yelling at the time, falls silent and looks at him. "Sorry, kid," he apologises softly.

"Why do you want me in your office?" Harry asks Dumbledore, who once again comes to crouch in front of him. His face isn't stern anymore, but soft, almost apologetic.

"Harry, I need to know what happened tonight. I understand you won't want to talk about it, and if I thought I could help you by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened and then I will personally escort you to the Hospital Wing."

_Let's get it over with_, says the voice in his head. It sounds as weary as he feels, but it's clear. _If we say no, there'll only be another argument. Let's be done with it and then we can rest._

*FPS*

He leans against Sirius as they walk up to Dumbledore's office and doesn't mention that Sirius' hand is gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises. He's grateful for the support, for having his godfather there, for not having to be alone right now.

*FPS*

_The cup was a portkey. It took us to a graveyard. There were magic suppression runes on the ground so I couldn't do anything to defend us. Wormtail was there and he had this weird looking baby that was Voldemort. Wormtail killed Diggory then he tied me up and made a potion using Voldemort's father's bone, Wormtail's hand, and my blood. He put the weird baby thing into it and Voldemort rose from it, alive and fully restored. I seized then. The next thing I remember is Death Eaters Apparating there and bowing before him. He talked to them about how disappointed he was that they'd never looked for him before and he tortured one of them. He tortured us too and I think I had another seizure. Then the Assistant turned up and he was talking a lot, but I don't remember much, and then he cast a glamour and made Voldemort and the Death Eaters think he was in one place when he was actually helping me. He untied me and distracted them so I could get away._

*FPS*

Harry repeats it all word for word. The voice is more coherent than he is and if he'd had to tell the story himself it would probably have taken twice as long and made only half as much sense. Later he'll also be grateful because if left to tell it himself, he'd likely have revealed the voice in his head and the fact he's not sure if what he saw was real or not, and he doesn't want them knowing he's crazy.

*FPS*

"The Assistant helped you escape?" Sirius asks. "But he helped Pettigrew get away, and it sounds like that caused all this. Whose side is he on?"

Harry doesn't have an answer to that. Dumbledore gets to his feet.

"You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it—and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. I will come with you both to the Hospital Wing. A Sleeping Potion, and some rest, I think..."

*FPS*

In the Hospital Wing, Harry sits on a bed as Pomfrey checks the back of his head, and then heals his cut cheek, the bites in his mouth, and the chafe marks around his wrists. She gives him a potion to ease the aches in his muscles and the throbbing in his head, and he's overwhelmed by the darkness that's been threatening him since his second seizure in the graveyard. He's unconscious before he even hits the pillow.

*FPS*

By the time Lucius Malfoy returns to his manor, it's to find the place swarming with Aurors who arrest him immediately.

*FPS*

The Aurors aren't entirely sure what inspired them to conduct a spontaneous raid on Malfoy Manor at such an obscure hour, nor is Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, entirely sure why she permitted it, but no one really cares after finding the hidden room in the cellar and the bloodstains inside.

*FPS*

The Assistant, after magically convincing the Aurors into raiding Malfoy Manor, returns to Hogsmeade with a new and unfamiliar face, rents a room at the Hogs Head, and sleeps for twelve hours straight.

*FPS*

Only when Pomfrey's assured Sirius that Harry will be fine and she'll keep a close eye on him does he borrow her floo to call Lupin, who'd have expected him back earlier than this. When he gets no response from shouting, he floos through properly, thinking Lupin's in bed and hadn't heard him. But the house is empty and he finds only a hastily scribbled note on the kitchen sideboard.

_At St Mungo's, come immediately. – R_

*FPS*

He floos straight there, a multitude of possible injuries that Lupin might have racing through his mind, each more unpleasant than the last, but Lupin's sat in the main waiting room, getting to his feet as soon as he sees Sirius and rushing over to him.

"Remus, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Sirius. It's James."

"James?" Sirius repeats blankly.

"James Potter, Sirius. Prongs. He's alive."

*FPS*

Fudge refuses to believe the claim that Voldemort's back. He's heard Crouch's story but writes it off as the actions of a madman, a fanatic. Crouch may very well have created a portkey that sent Harry and Diggory off God only knows where and returned them injured and dead, respectively, but that was no proof of Voldemort's return, nor was the word of a delirious child who, Fudge points out angrily, is a Parselmouth and possibly mad.

*FPS*

"Minerva, can you fetch Hagrid for me please," Dumbledore requests when Fudge has stormed out his office, "and Madame Maxime if she will consent to come, and ask them to wait for me here. I will have to go down and see the Diggorys soon."

McGonagall nods and leaves the office. Only when she's gone does Dumbledore turn to Snape.

"Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..."

"I am."

"Then good luck."

*FPS*

Two Aurors arrive at Saint Mungo's to see James and take a statement from Lupin. The Assistant is wanted for questioning, but no one truly expects to find him.

*FPS*

"He's in remarkably good shape considering the circumstances," a healer tells Lupin and Sirius, "with only minor malnourishment, some muscle and bone weakness. My biggest concern is his vitamin D deficiency—I don't think he's seen sunlight in a very long time. There's signs of torture, but again nothing as bad as I expected and no permanent damage. With the right diet and potion supplements, I expect him to recover within a month at the very most, at least physically.

"We won't know the extent of his psychological damage until he wakes up. You're probably aware that long term imprisonment can cause psychological issues, and of course torture is not something one recovers from quickly, but he's clearly developed some kind of bond with his captor. If it's an enchantment, then we should be able to lift it and his recovery will depend on the strength of the enchantment, how long it's been on him, the spell itself... if it's not, then we're looking at years of therapy."

*FPS*

Pomfrey jumps when Lupin floos into her office unexpectedly.

"Sorry, Poppy. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I'll live," she replies. "Is Sirius coming through as well?"

"No, he won't be. Do you know where Dumbledore is?"

"His office. Is everything alright?"

Lupin has to think before he answers that. "I don't know. I need to find Dumbledore."

*FPS*

Harry's still fast asleep, but cleaned up now and looking almost peaceful, and Lupin takes a moment to watch him, assuring himself Harry's fine after what he's heard from Sirius, then gently ruffles his hair before carrying on, wondering how Harry will react to what he'll learn when he wakes up and doubting it'll be easy.

*FPS*

Dumbledore's surprised to find Lupin waiting by the gargoyle guarding his office when he's finished with the Diggorys.

"Dumbledore, I need to speak with you, urgently."

"Sirius told you what happened tonight?"

"He mentioned it; I don't know the details."

"Minerva can tell you more. I need to speak with Hagrid, but I can talk with you later."

"Dumbledore, James Potter's alive."

*FPS*

"Wait for me in Minerva's office. I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"I'll be in Severus'. I need to speak with him."

"He's left to do something for me, and forgive my abruptness, but you're hardly the best person to inform him of James Potter's return."

Lupin nods. "I'll be with Minerva then."

*FPS*

McGonagall staggers and has to sit down when she hears.

"We need to tell Severus."

Lupin sits opposite her. "You know."

McGonagall looks at him in surprise. "You do too?"

"I knew as soon as I saw Harry."

"Does Severus know you know?"

"Yes. He told me no one else did; I think he didn't want us discussing it and risk being overheard."

McGonagall tuts. "Ever the Slytherin, that man."

*FPS*

"Harry will have to be told. It can't be kept from him any longer, not with James alive."

"That's for Severus to do, Minerva."

"How do you think he'll take it?"

"Better than Sirius will."

*FPS*

When Dumbledore joins them Lupin explains how James had come to be in his kitchen, then explains how he'd taken him to Saint Mungo's, where James had turned angry and violent, attacking Lupin and the healers, shouting to be returned "to my Master" until the healers had managed to sedate him and get him into a bed. He had still been unconscious when Lupin left.

"Who is this Assistant man?" McGonagall asks when he's finished.

"That's a question to which I too would dearly like to know the answer," Dumbledore replies.

*FPS*

Lupin and McGonagall tell Dumbledore about Snape being Harry's father and all three of them agree that Lupin should be the one to tell Sirius, before Harry wakes up. There's an unspoken worry that Sirius might reject Harry as a godchild when he finds out, though none of them want to believe he'd do it.

*FPS*

When James wakes up from the sedative, he refuses to speak so much as a word to anyone—not to the healers, to Sirius, or to the Aurors that come to question him. He lies in the bed he's been restrained to and stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched angrily whenever someone tries talking to him. When they tell him Lucius has been arrested, something like fear flickers in his eyes but he remains stoically silent.

*FPS*

Sirius returns to Hogwarts to inform Lupin and the others about James' status, and Lupin takes him into McGonagall's office to tell him about Snape being Harry's father. He thinks it's probably not the best time for it, but he doubts there ever will be a good time.

*FPS*

"BULLSHIT!"

"Sirius—"

"It's a lie! My godson is not that greasy git's kid!"

"Severus is Harry's father, Sirius."

"Where's the proof?"

"All you have to do is look at him, Sirius."

"He looks like James."

"No, he doesn't. You want him to, so that's what you see."

"It's not possible, Moony. Lily would never have slept with him. No one in their right mind would sleep with _him_."

"There _were_ friends, Sirius."

"Then she saw sense and ditched him. She married James, Moony. She didn't get pregnant until after that. She wouldn't have cheated on him."

"It seems she did. Sirius—"

"No, it's bullshit. James is Harry's dad, not Snape."

*FPS*

It's little after six the next morning when Dumbledore's fireplace flares suddenly and a voice calls through, "Narcissa Malfoy requesting an urgent meeting with Albus Dumbledore."

Dumbledore, who hasn't slept yet, rises from behind his desk and goes to the fireplace, taking a pinch of powder from the pot atop the mantle and throwing it into the flames. "Please come through, Mrs Malfoy."

*FPS*

"I imagine you're already aware, but my husband was arrested last night."

"I expected it to happen, yes."

"I wish to inform Draco myself, before he has to hear it from other sources, and, as there is only a week of term left, I would like to take him home so that we might deal with this as a family."

"Of course, I quite understand. If you'll wait here, I'll fetch him myself."

Narcissa raises an eyebrow. "Surely Severus, as his Head of House, can fetch him."

"Severus is not currently in the castle," Dumbledore says as there's a knock at the door, and Narcissa knows enough to know what that means. "I assure you it's no trouble to fetch him myself. I will return shortly."

*FPS*

To Dumbledore's surprise and relief, Snape's the one outside his door. Snape's eyes flick past the headmaster to where Narcissa's standing by the desk, composed but tense. Dumbledore doesn't need to say anything.

"Lucius has been arrested?" Snape asks, and Narcissa nods once. "I'll fetch Draco."

*FPS*

After Snape's fetched Malfoy from Slytherin, he and Dumbledore leave them to talk in the office while they move into Dumbledore's quarters.

"You've heard about Potter then," Snape says.

"Yes. He's currently in Saint Mungo's."

"Has Harry been told?"

"No. He's still asleep and for obvious reasons, you will need to be present."

Snape looks at him. Dumbledore stares back calmly.

"You know."

"I do."

"Who was it? Lupin or McGonagall?"

"Both. I suppose I should have guessed it the day you turned on Voldemort and begged me to save both their lives. Why did you never tell me?"

"It was none of your concern," he says snappishly, then sighs wearily, rubbing both hands over his face. "The Dark Lord knows."

There's a sharp gasp from Dumbledore. "How?"

"Potter. It seems he's told Lucius a great deal, though how much can be used against us, I don't know, nor how much Lucius has passed on to the Dark Lord so far. He'll be furious when he hears about the arrest, but I'm still trying to work out why Lucius has been holding onto this information for so long and never tried to use it against me."

*FPS*

"I'm staying."

"Draco, your father has been arrested. You have to come home."

"Why? There's nothing I can do, Mother. What good will my coming home early do? If I leave now, it will look like we're hiding in shame."

"As we should," Narcissa snaps. "Your father has brought disgrace upon our family. He has made a fool of me. I understand you want to think the best of him, Draco, but what he's done—"

"Is disgraceful. I know, Mother, but it was him who did it, not us. If I leave now, people will think we were involved, that we knew about it and did nothing. Harry Evans will think I was involved and he deserves to know the truth, and _I _deserve to have a chance to defend myself against those who'd sully my name."

"The Malfoy name has already been sullied, Draco. James Potter may be a blood traitor but he is famous and well-liked. I've read the papers, I know what happened to the Evans boy and that it wouldn't have if he had been raised by Potter. The people will realise that Lucius is inadvertently responsible for what happened to their beloved Boy Who Lived and they will rally against us for it."

Draco shakes his head. "That's why I have to stay. Father did this, not us. I want to tell Evans that myself."

"What makes you think the boy will even believe you? I am not an idiot, Draco, I know he does not trust you and barely even likes you. That has not changed since last summer or you would have mentioned it in a letter."

"Mother, I love you but I don't tell you everything."

"You don't need to. Do you think I don't know how you feel about the boy?"

Draco looks away, a faint flush rising in his cheeks.

"Come home, Draco."

"No. I'm sorry, Mother, I'm staying. Evans might not believe me, but I have to tell him anyway, and I'm not hiding in shame. Lucius Malfoy may become a disgrace, but Draco Malfoy will not and someone has to restore some dignity to our family name."


	34. Chapter 34

******Warning:** Torture.

**Chapter 34**

Lucius Malfoy's arrest and James Potter is all anyone talks about the next morning. Within five minutes of the post delivery at breakfast, Draco's starting to regret his decision not to leave with his mother. He suddenly has a whole lot of sympathy for Harry and his desire to stay hidden his whole life.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't feel particularly well-rested when he wakes up, but once he's awake he can't get back to sleep again, especially not when he remembers what happened. He's not sure what time it is, but there's sunlight streaming through the windows. His wand and his knife are on the trolley table by the bed, as is a money pouch that contains his thousand galleon prize money from winning the tournament. Sirius and Lupin are sat by his bed.

*FPS*

He doesn't want to talk but the expression on Lupin's face says he has to. He doesn't see why; he told them everything the night before. Or at least, he thinks he did, and the voice in his head says he did, but he can't really remember properly; it's all incredibly blurry. But Lupin just makes small talk for a while and Sirius doesn't speak. There's a beetle crawling along the edge of the bedframe and he crushes it under his foot, twisting his shoe savagely against the poor bug.

*FPS*

Not long after Harry wakes, the doors open and Snape and Dumbledore come in. Sirius looks around at them, his jaw clenching, then looks back at Harry. He stares at him for a moment then stands abruptly, drawing his wand and turning it on Snape before any of them can stop him.

"Sirius!" Lupin and Dumbledore yell, but Sirius has already cast. There's a flash and a bang and Snape's thrown off his feet. Lupin jumps up, rushing around Harry's bed to grab Sirius, snatching the wand from his hand and tossing it to the bed then wrapping his arms around the other man, struggling to hold him back. Pomfrey comes running out of her office, drawn by the noise.

"YOU RAPING BASTARD! Admit it! That's how you did it, isn't it?! Lily never would—"

Lupin sticks his hand in Sirius' mouth, silencing him. Snape shoves away Dumbledore from trying to help him up and draws his own wand, his face as furious as Sirius'.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Dumbledore cries.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY I RAPED HER!" Snape screams as Dumbledore grabs him to stop him physically assaulting Sirius in place of cursing him. "Don't you EVER suggest I would do that! Least of all to her! _I loved her!_"

Sirius is struggling furiously to throw off Lupin, who looks pleadingly at Dumbledore.

"_Stupefy_."

Sirius slumps. Lupin staggers at the sudden weight leant against him, but manages to stay on his feet, drag Sirius to the nearest empty bed, and push him ungracefully onto it.

Harry looks between the four men, shocked and confused. "What was that about? Why does Sirius think... was he talking about my mum?"

"That's not how we wanted this conversation to begin," Dumbledore says, letting go of Snape, who's breathing hard, a vein twitching in his temple as he stares furiously at Sirius' unconscious form.

"What conversation?" Harry asks. "What's going on?"

*FPS*

It's Lupin who tells him.

"Harry, last night the Assistant turned up at our house with James Potter."

"I don't understand."

"James is alive. It seems that he has been all this time. He's been held captive by Lucius Malfoy, but currently he's at Saint Mungo's, and Lucius has been arrested."

The window panes rattle in their frames. Dumbledore, having expected this, has already cast unbreakable charms on the glass, as well as on everything else breakable in the room.

"My dad's alive?" Harry whispers, staring at Lupin. Lupin sighs sadly.

"The thing is, James isn't your father."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Lily had an affair," Snape says. He's folded his arms over his chest and his expression is blank, but his jaw is still tensed. "James Potter isn't your father."

"Then who is?"

"Me."

*FPS*

They expect another outburst of magic but it doesn't come.

"No."

"Harry—" Snape starts, but Harry shakes his head.

"No. That's—that's a lie."

"Harry, it's not," Lupin says gently. "I know it's hard to believe—"

"IT'S NOT TRUE!"

The windows are shaking so hard in their frames that a low, thunder-like rumble sounds through the room and all the furniture save Harry's own bed starts to tremble. The door to the private room opens and Alastor Moody peers out, his wand in hand, still pale and thin from the imprisonment in his own trunk. Madam Pomfrey starts casting Sticking Charms on the furniture, casting glances at Harry and Snape all the while.

*FPS*

The voice in his head is laughing.

_Oh, this is priceless. A day ago you were an orphan; now you've got two dads!_

"He's NOT my dad!" Harry yells at it, then fixes an angry gaze on Snape and snarls, "You're _not_ my father."

Snape says nothing, just stares at him, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth are grinding.

"He is, Harry," Dumbledore says, "and—"

"NO HE'S NOT! HE'S NOT MY DAD! DAD'S DON'T LEAVE THEIR KIDS TO GET BEAT UP!"

*FPS*

It's one thing for Snape to have left him with the Dursleys if he was just a teacher, just an old friend of his mother—Harry can almost understand that; after all, why should he take on someone else's child? But the idea that Snape's his father and still chose to leave him there...

_Abandoned_, says the voice in his head, and it's not laughing now, but sounds bitter and hateful. _Abandoned by your mother, by your stepfather, now by your true father. You were abandoned by Jia, and recall how quick Hermione, Neville, Tyler, and Cid had been to abandon you when they thought you a dark wizard attacking students, even if they did come back. How long is it before Sirius and Remus abandon you too? They've just got their best friend back and learnt you're not the child they thought you were; you'll be back out on the street when the school year ends and they refuse to let you back into their home._

*FPS*

Lupin gives a cry of surprise as Harry disappears from view, then the bed covers are tossed aside, Harry's wand and knife disappear from the table, and Lupin's knocked aside.

"Alastor, can you see him?" Dumbledore asks quickly.

"No."

Snape swears. Dumbledore spins and points his wand at the door, casting a Locking Charm just as the handle turns.

"Harry, you don't need to run," he says. "Let's talk about this. Show yourself."

The window nearest the door swings open.

"_Accio!_"

The window goes still and straight suddenly as if someone's grabbed it in an effort not to get pulled away, but then Dumbledore's wand jumps out of his hand and he trips over despite standing perfectly still. The window moves a little and then, as though kicked, swings wider until it reaches its limit before bouncing back.

*FPS*

Harry flies down to the castle's front door then runs back inside, still invisible as he tears through the corridors and down to the dungeons. He sees a few people and when he gets to the Slytherin common room it's busy despite being late morning on a Friday. He makes himself visible just before entering, some part of his mind thinking that he can't reveal the extent of his powers to the rest of the students. There's whispers and stares as he runs through but he doesn't notice them, his mind fixed on his target and knowing he has to be quick. As long as he's visible, they can track him and he doesn't want that.

*FPS*

He doesn't wonder why his roommates don't ask why he's hurriedly throwing all his possessions into his trunk or why he's running around in borrowed hospital pyjamas. He doesn't try packing neatly, just tosses everything into the trunk and squishes it down so he can close it. He puts the pot containing his magical eye into his pocket, pulls a cloak around himself, casts a Shrinking Spell on the trunk and pockets that too, then runs out again.

"Evans—"

He doesn't know who calls him and he doesn't care. He rushes out the common room, checks no one's there to see, and turns invisible once more.

*FPS*

He passes Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin, and Sirius in the Entrance Hall. Snape has the emerald pendant that McGonagall used two years ago to find him, but it doesn't glow and hangs limply from his hand. Dumbledore is saying something about a lockdown, but Harry doesn't stick around to listen. When he pushes open the castle doors he hears them call his name and Dumbledore casts another Summoning Charm, but Harry's ready for it this time and conjures a shield to block it. He takes flight as soon as he's out the door, thinking any more spells will be aimed towards the ground, and it's faster than running. The moment he's reaches the school boundaries and flies over the gates, he Disapparates.

*FPS*

Snape and Sirius almost come to blows again in the Entrance Hall when Sirius blames Snape for Harry running off. They're seen by a handful of students and by dinner the entire school knows that Harry Evans has run away.

*FPS*

Dumbledore sends Sirius and Lupin home, pointing out that Harry may very well go there, but when they get there it's clear Harry's already been—Kiwi is gone from where she normally sits on his bed, the photos stuck up on the walls from his month spent touring the country have all been taken down, and in the corner where his _Famous Figurine_ boxes normally sit there's only a pile of ash and melted plastic.

*FPS*

Harry flees to the Lake District, not knowing where else he can go. He finds a secluded spot in the woods, sits on a rock, buries his face in his arms and sobs.

*FPS*

After Harry ran off two years ago, Snape had put an extra spell on the tracking pendant so that it would warm up or cool down depending on his distance from Harry, but in the wake of Harry's absence the pendant doesn't glow even once and the temperature doesn't change. Although sitting at body temperature when he wears it, his chest feels cold, even a week later when the school year ends, without the warm pulse he's grown familiar with.

*FPS*

Almost no one in school believes or cares that Draco hadn't known about James Potter; he's still the son of the man who imprisoned James Potter in his basement for fourteen years. The vast majority of people hate him for it; a handful of Slytherins, mostly Death Eaters' kids, think it's admirable

*FPS*

When Cid and Tyler think to visit the owlery and check on Hedwig, they find her ruffled and morose. Cid takes her to Hagrid, who grooms her and encourages her to eat, but says there's little they can do for her. She's not sick, just depressed, and Cid takes her in to look after while Harry's missing.

*FPS*

Hermione and Neville instantly turn defensive when Draco appears at the door of their carriage on the ride back to London at the end of term, but he's alone and looking harassed, as he has been for the past week.

"Have you heard from him?" he asks, not quite looking at either of them.

"What do you care?" Neville retorts. He knows who 'him' is without having to ask.

"A simple no would have sufficed," Draco says quietly, and leaves. Hermione and Neville exchange glances, but neither know what to say about it.

*FPS*

Kirith Karpel examines James closely for dark magic afflictions. Although there's obvious signs of dark magic cast both on him and by him and evidence of suppressed memories, she determines that it's not a curse of any kind that's creating his loyalty to Lucius. Remus and Sirius have mixed feelings. They're glad that their friend isn't cursed, but upset that his recovery is going to be that much harder. Kirith warns them that he'll never be the same person they knew in school and he will never fully get over what happened.

*FPS*

"The Black Family home. All yours, Albus."

Dumbledore runs a finger over the filthy table in the basement room. "Didn't the family have a house elf?"

"We did. Remus and I came by briefly before buying our house and the crazy little bastard hadn't dusted a shelf in twelve years so I gave him clothes. Feel free to get a new one. Oh, and you'll want to watch out for my mother."

*FPS*

At Snape's request, Dumbledore doesn't inform the rest of the Order about Harry's true parentage.

*FPS*

When James finally speaks, it's to call Sirius a blood traitor, Remus a mangy animal, and to claim Lily was a Mudblood whore. Sirius loses his temper and controls himself only when security gets called, stalking out with his fists clenched. Remus follows him, looking back sadly at what's become of his old friend. James tells the healers he doesn't want them visiting again.

*FPS*

"It's not his fault, Padfoot."

"I know, Moony, I just—I fucking hate Malfoy for doing this to him."

*FPS*

After spending a few nights in the Lake District, Harry goes to London and finds a library. He immerses himself in books, spending every moment reading anything that will keep his mind off Voldemort, James Potter, and Snape—historical accounts, fictional stories, science textbooks. As long as it's interesting enough to keep his attention, he'll read it.

*FPS*

James has never had anything against healers. It's a perfectly respectable profession and Master considered healers worthy of the utmost courtesy, his wife having been one before. But it seems that every healer in St Mungo's psychiatric ward is a hypocritical, condescending, pretentious twerp.

They keep telling him that Master had treated him badly and been wrong to lock him up, but as far as he can tell, they're doing exactly the same thing. He's imprisoned in this god-awful place, forbidden from leaving just like he'd been locked in Master's dungeon. When he does what they want, like forcing down every morsel of those dreadful meals, or taking those foul tasting potions, or sitting in the day room with the other patients, they smile and tell him how good he is and that he'll soon be better—more bullshit because there's nothing wrong with him—which isn't that different from when he would obey Master's commands and be rewarded with Master's attention or good food.

But when he calls Dennis from down the hall a Mudblood, or tries to pour his potions down the toilet, or foist his meals off to Melissa from the room opposite, they scowl and tell him off, and when he attacks the Mudblood for calling Master a racist bastard, they throw him in the padded room for a time-out. But it's just the same as Master—he would punish James for being disobedient or forgetting that his old friends are blood traitors, monsters, and Mudbloods. The only difference is that Master's punishments were real and painful. The healers think that shutting him in a room and keeping him away from the other patients is punishment; he _likes_ being alone in a room with no windows. It's familiar, comforting, being trapped away like that. The only bad part is that it's so _bright_.

*FPS*

Harry's fine for just over three weeks, or as close to fine as he can be, but then the loneliness starts to get to him. He lives in the library, curling up in the reading corner when it closes for the night, and ventures out in the day to get food and drink. There's a toilet in the library; he'd made sure of it before he chose to live there. But all the books and the voice in his head don't make up for not having friends around him or even a godfather. It'd been alright when he was younger because he'd never had any friends so he didn't have anything to miss. Now though... he just wants to talk to someone for a bit, but he won't go home, too scared of being rejected, and he doesn't trust any of his friends not to tell on him. Hermione and Neville would probably write to Sirius, Remus, or even Dumbledore if he turned up at their houses; Tyler's guardian worked for the Ministry so that was definitely not an option; and he didn't actually know where Cid lived, nor whether he was staying with his dad or with his mum and step-father for the summer.

*FPS*

He runs out of his epilepsy potion a few days later, but he doesn't dare go to the hospital for more. They would definitely call Sirius.

*FPS*

The _Daily Prophet_ has a booming business that summer. Between reports of Albus Dumbledore's lies about the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, the discovery of James Potter and subsequent arrest of Lucius Malfoy, and the disappearance of the Boy Who Lived, they break record numbers of sales.

*FPS*

The Assistant groans unhappily when his Mark burns just as he's got a beautiful and well-endowed Muggle woman to agree to take him home with her. He kisses her enthusiastically, tells her he's just going to the gent's and will be right back, and slips away, stepping out the nightclub's back door to the dingy Bristol alley outside. It's empty and he turns invisible before Apparating away.

He reappears in a dark, unfurnished room he knows to be the sitting room of the Riddle House. His plan to Apparate in and immediately leave again is thwarted by the magic suppression runes painted on all four walls, stripping him of his invisibility and his blond-haired, blue-eyed disguise and leaving him trapped. There's a bang from behind him and instinct has him ducking his head and whirling to present his rune covered back. He staggers slightly from the impact of a spell, but it does nothing. He can't stop the ropes appearing and wrapping around him, though, knocking him off balance to fall to the floor. There's another bang and this time the spell hits the back of his head, stunning him instantly.

*FPS*

Draco is woken by a tapping on his window. He ignores it at first, knowing any owls will go to the kitchen if ignored and Dobby will take the letters, but it persists and he rolls out of bed, grumbling about stupid birds as he stumbles over to the window, yanks the curtains open, then gives a startled yelp because there's no owl outside his window. It's Harry Evans.

*FPS*

When the Assistant wakes, he's stretched out on a torture rack, stripped of his clothes, the leather binding his wrists and ankles marked with runes that render him powerless. The rest of the room has been cleaned of them and Voldemort stands over him, his wand out, alone except for Nagini, currently curled asleep in the corner of the room.

*FPS*

"Kinky," the Assistant says in a carefree tone. "Gotta wonder where the fuck you got this though. And really—Muggle torture devices? Disappointing."

In response Voldemort taps his wand to the crank and there's a clunk as the gears move, pulling the Assistant's arms and legs. He grimaces, but makes no noise.

"I have my ways, but you surprise me, Assistant. I did not expect you to come."

"You called, I answered. You should have a little more faith in your Death Eaters," he says, then snaps his fingers, managing it despite his position. "Right, except most of them abandoned you for fourteen years so you're not too happy with them right now. What excuses did they give for not coming to their master's aid?"

"What excuse do you give?" Voldemort asks and trails his wand over the Assistant's left forearm. "You bare my mark, though I didn't give it to you, and you have power that would have restored me. Why did you not come to my aid, to my _assistance_?"

The Assistant chuckles. "That's funny. Very clever. Don't quit your day job, though."

"Why did you not come to my aid?"

The Assistant sighs. "Fine, fine. Pretty simple really: I couldn't. I was stuck in Hogsmeade and it's surrounding environs for about sixteen years. Couldn't leave at all. Dreadfully boring after a while, but it was the choice I made."

"Why couldn't you leave?"

"Ask me another one."

Voldemort narrows his gaze and lifts his wand. "_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

"Come _on_," the Assistant pants when it stops. "You can do better than that."

Another tap, _clunk_, and the Assistant winces.

"Why couldn't you leave?"

"Ask me another one."

"_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

"You can torture me all you want; I'm not answering the question. Ask me something else."

"You will tell me."

"Maybe, but not right now." He adopts an overly-dramatic seductive expression. "Our relationship just isn't ready for it yet."

Voldemort looks furious. "_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

Tap, _clunk_, and the Assistant groans and swears.

"I will make you talk."

"Never said I wouldn't talk," the Assistant gasps. "Just waiting for the right questions."

"Then answer this one: sixteen years—is that the point to which you travelled back in time?"

The Assistant gives Voldemort an approving look. "Figured that out did you?"

"It's the logical explanation."

"Yes, but you're not always logical. You do like to let your emotions get the better of you sometimes. A lot of the time, actually."

Voldemort looks at him angrily. The Assistant stares back, silently daring Voldemort to torture him again and prove him right. Voldemort doesn't.

"Why did you come back? What are you trying to change?

"Everything. And I succeeded."

"Is that so."

The Assistant shifts in a motion that, were he not stretched out so cruelly, might have been a shrug. "For a while, at least. Three more years and it'll reset. I'll have to do it all over again. Can I just say, I've always found it impressive how you can show so many expressions with no eyebrows. Especially confusion, like right now. Really quite remarkable how you manage to express that with a face like yours."

"Explain yourself, Assistant, before I force you to."

The Assistant raises his own eyebrows, a mocking smile playing about his lips. "Time loop, my lordship, sir. Y'see, the spell I used to go back in time didn't quite work out properly. So now I get to play the same nineteen years over and over again until I figure out how to break it."

*FPS*

"Tell me your name."

"You already know it. You knew it the moment you saw my true face in the graveyard."

"Tell me your name," Voldemort orders again. "The one your parents gave you at birth."

There's no smile on the Assistant's face now, no mocking glint in his eyes, just a carefully blank expression as he says quietly, "The name my parents gave me at birth is Harry Potter."

* * *

**A/N:** Now you know his story, I can confess that the Assistant's name is a shout out to _Doctor Who_, in which time travellers have no known names, just a title (the Doctor, the Master, the Corsair, etc.).


	35. Chapter 35

******Warning:** Torture.

**Chapter 35**

Draco throws open his window. Harry's hovering outside, sat astride a Firebolt, his magical eye moving around, scanning the house and grounds.

"Evans, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

Draco steps aside, letting him fly through the window and land. He looks around the room with his real eye whilst his magical one stares towards the wall. After a moment, Draco realises it's looking in the direction of his parents' bedroom.

"Why are you here?" he asks again.

"I was lonely."

Draco gapes. "You were—you've been missing for weeks and now you show up because you were _lonely?_ And you come _here?_"

"You're the only person I trust not to contact my—contact Sirius or Dumbledore or anyone else."

*FPS*

Draco stares at him for a moment then runs a hand through his hair. "That's great, Evans, I'm touched, really, but firstly, we're not friends—something you delight in reminding me, I might point out—and secondly..."

"Secondly your dad locked James Potter in a basement for fourteen years," Harry finishes quietly, both eyes fixing on the other boy. Draco swallows thickly. "You're not your father."

"I didn't know, Evans. I had no idea, and neither did Mother."

"I know."

Draco looks sceptical. Harry leans his Firebolt against the wall. "The papers said he was in a hidden room in the cellar. Your father's one, right?"

"Yes."

"If you'd known, you wouldn't have told me about it last summer, not like you did. You really believed there was nothing down there."

*FPS*

"I still don't understand why you'd come here of all places. Were you really that desperate for company?"

"I've been living in a library for three weeks. I haven't spoke to anyone since..."

_I'm offended. I thought we were developing a bond._

"Why did you run away?"

Harry turns away from him. "Can I sit down?"

"Yeah."

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the corner of his robe. He glances at Draco, who's wearing only a pair of boxers. "Are you going to put on a dressing gown or something?"

Draco looks down at himself then back up again. "You're the one who decided to turn up at my house in the middle of the night. If you're uncomfortable, that's your problem."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I just thought you might be cold."

"I'm not."

"Okay."

*FPS*

An awkward silence follows. Draco pulls out his desk chair and sits down. Harry continues to fiddle with his robe and not look at him. Eventually Draco sighs.

"Evans—"

"Why did you never tell anyone who I was?"

Draco's surprised by the question, but he answers. "I had nothing to gain from it."

Harry glances at him. "For a Slytherin, you're terribly honest."

Draco smiles. "The thing about being a Slytherin is everyone always thinks you're lying, so you can tell the truth and they don't believe you anyway."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It can be useful."

*FPS*

"You could have used it to blackmail me."

"For what? You've got nothing I want and like I said at the start of last year, I wanted powerful friends. Blackmail wasn't the way to do it. Bribery on the other hand..."

"That's why you invited me to the Quidditch Cup."

"Didn't quite work out how I planned."

"You kept trying though. Even when I told you I'd never be your friend."

Draco meets his gaze calmly, but his hands are tense. "Lyle told me you're asexual. Is it true?"

Harry shrugs, looking away again. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean..." He sighs, annoyed. "Maybe. Yes? I don't know. Do I have to be anything? All these labels are confusing. Why are we even talking about this?"

"Are you serious?" Draco says and Harry looks at him. "Merlin, you are," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair again. He looks at Harry for a long moment, his expression thoughtful, then gets up, crosses the space between them in two steps, and grabs Harry's face in both hands.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he says, and before Harry can argue with him, he's pressing his lips firmly against Harry's.

*FPS*

"That's why we're talking about it," Draco says when he pulls away.

"Oh," Harry says.

_Um_, says the voice, equally speechless for the first time Harry can remember.

"Tell me you knew, Evans. Everyone in Slytherin knows. Even my mother knows."

Harry flushes and doesn't look at him even though Draco's face is still just inches from his own and his hands are still on Harry's cheeks. "Well Tyler said, but I didn't—I mean, I thought... he and Cid, they teased me but..."

Draco's hands slip from his face and he steps back. "You're an idiot."

Harry stands, edging aside. "I should go. I'm sorry for disturbing you, I didn't—"

Draco grabs his wrist. "You're not going anywhere. I just kissed you and all I got was an 'oh'. This is clearly something that needs discussing."

_You know, if you mention that his father locked up your step-daddy for fourteen years, he'll let you go and you won't have to have this conversation._

It'd be a lie if Harry said he wasn't tempted.

*FPS*

"Sit."

Harry sits, reluctantly. He's not going to mention what Lucius did. However awkward he feels about their conversation, he's not nasty enough to bring up that just to get out of it. Draco pulls his chair closer, sitting so their knees aren't quite touching.

"You clearly have trouble with your sexual identity so lets keep things simple. Do you—and just to remind you that I'm not some Hufflepuff sod who'll cry and angst and start writing bad poetry if you reject me—do you fancy me?"

"No," Harry says in a small voice.

"Fine. Do you think you might fancy me one day?"

"Maybe?"

Draco sighs. "That's not helpful."

"I'm not a seer," Harry snaps. "I can't predict the future."

"Fine, just... forget about fancying. Did you like it when I kissed you?"

"It was... nice, I guess."

"You guess," he says dryly.

"Well it's not like I've got anything to compare it to. It wasn't horrible and... and I probably wouldn't mind doing it again, but I don't care if I never get kissed again either."

*FPS*

"That was seriously your first kiss?"

Harry folds his arms over his chest, defensive. "So?"

"I just didn't believe it when Lyle said you and him never had."

"Why would I kiss him? I mean, he's pretty, I guess, but... why didn't you believe him?"

Draco shrugs. "I thought he only said you hadn't because he thought I'd get jealous. He's kissed half the boys in your year. Half the girls too, by the sounds of it."

"He has?" Harry asks, surprised, wondering why Tyler had never mentioned it. "But I thought you and him were going out."

"We're friends with benefits, but without the friends part. Definitely not exclusive, in any case. Stop changing the subject; we're talking about us."

_Perspective bastard._

Harry sighs. "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"

"There's a lot of things I want from you, plenty of which would make that blush in your cheeks turn red enough to put a Weasley to shame, but I'll settle for knowing why you came here tonight when you've got other people you could have gone to for company."

*FPS*

"Everyone else would tell Sirius."

"Why don't you want him to know where you are? He's probably worri-" he breaks off, leaning forwards. "Are you crying?"

"No."

"You—Merlin, Evans, don't—please stop," he says a little desperately. "Look, I'm not going to tell Sirius. You don't have to cry."

Harry stands, rubbing at his eyes, angry at himself for being so emotional. "I should go. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."

Draco stands as well, grabbing his wrist again. "Go where? It's the middle of the night and you said you were living in a library."

"I'll find somewhere," he mutters, pulling his hand free.

"Stay here."

Harry looks at him, half-wary, half-suspicious.

"I mean it. You can sleep here for the night. My mother never comes in without my permission so you don't have to worry about her."

Harry's not worried about that. He's only visible to Draco; he doesn't want Snape or anyone else tracking him down.

*FPS*

_Say yes. We haven't slept in a proper bed in weeks. I don't care how comfortable you can make a floor, I want to sleep in a bed and his looks incredibly inviting._

"I'm not going to try anything," Draco adds when Harry hesitates, but with a hint of annoyance in his tone, as though offended that anyone would think such a thing of him in the first place, although it hadn't even occurred to Harry that he might. "That's a queen sized bed, Evans. There's plenty of room for us both. I'll put a shirt on if it makes you feel better."

"No, that's—you don't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded."

Harry hesitates again, but the voice is enthusiastically encouraging him to and he can't deny that it'd be nice to sleep in a proper bed again. "Okay."

*FPS*

James wants to go home. He doesn't like the hospital. He doesn't like the food, or the potions, or the other patients. He doesn't like Sam, his personal psychiatrist, or the healers in charge of the ward. He doesn't like the nightmares of cold, dark rooms that have been plaguing him every night since he got there, and he especially doesn't like the fact that as the days go on he occasionally finds himself wondering if the healers are right and Master did treat him wrongly.

*FPS*

"Why did I allow you into my ranks?" Voldemort asks the Assistant. "Why did I not kill you?"

"My life was a whole lot different to Harry Evans'," the Assistant replies. "We're different people, and the people from my timeline are all different to the ones in this timeline."

"That's not the answer to my question."

"Yes, it is. I grew up with my dad—with Severus Snape—after your counterpart attempted to kill me as a baby, but he died when I was six and Lucius Malfoy adopted me a couple of years later. By the time your counterpart returned to power, I wasn't some sick, distrustful kid with more power than I knew how to handle, I was a Death Eater's child. I believed everything Lucius Malfoy stood for—everything _you_ stood for. Why on earth would you kill someone with my amount of power when you could have them kneeling at your feet instead, willing to obey your every order?"

"Are you still willing to obey my every order?"

"Can we have this discussion when I'm not stretched across the chopping board?"

Voldemort taps the crank, the gears clunk, and the Assistant whines painfully.

"Answer me. Are you still willing to obey my every order?"

"Most of them."

"Not good enough, Harry."

The Assistant's gaze narrows. "For a man who despises his own birth name, you certainly lack the respect of calling others by their chosen names, _Tom_."

Tap, _clunk_.

"The Assistant is nothing more than a cover to hide behind. Your secret is out now, Harry Potter. You can use your true name."

"The Assistant is the name I chose in this timeline," he replies weakly. "My identity is irrelevant. And as a side note, it's not Potter, it's Snape. Dad raised me; it's his name I used, not James'."

"Curious that you were raised by him, when the Harry Potter of this... timeline... was not."

The Assistant closes his eyes and would have looked like a man relaxing if not for the sweat slicking his body, the pallor in his skin, and the tense lines in his face betraying the pain he feels. "It seems my very existence causes alterations even if I don't interfere. In my timeline, your counterpart killed James Potter the same night he killed my mother. In others, your counterpart has succeeded in killing my counterpart that night, too."

"How many of these timelines have you lived?"

"God knows. I lost count the first time I spent an entire timeline drugged up to my eyeballs, but I don't always survive the full nineteen years, and once I do—zap! Back to nineteen seventy-nine, physically reset to exactly how I was at seventeen years old, nothing but the clothes on my back and the memories of another timeline in which I failed to break the loop."

*FPS*

"Tell me what happened that made you attempt to go back in time, Assistant. You said you wanted to change everything. Why?"

The Assistant opens his eyes to consider him for a moment, then squirms the little that he can, winces, and sighs before answering.

"In my timeline, your counterpart retrieved the Philosopher's Stone from Hogwarts at the end of my first year. By the time I turned fifteen, he was in full power. I was utterly loyal to him, Dumbledore was dead, the Ministry was, as always, a pushover... the world was his playground. The Muggleborns were segregated, refused education, tortured and killed for pleasure. But he got cocky. Him and his Death Eaters were too drunk on power and things got out of hand. The Muggles found out about magic and he underestimated them. He thought his power and mine was enough to stop them, but their numbers were too huge and they've got some pretty impressive weapons of mass destruction. Magic hasn't advanced enough to defend us from multiple explosions, or tanks rolling through Diagon Alley."

"Mere Muggles cannot defeat Lord Voldemort."

The Assistant shakes his head. "That's what your counterpart thought. The Muggles aren't a threat to us only as long as they don't know we exist. Do you know what the current wizarding population of Britain is? About fifty thousand. The current Muggle population? Fifty _million_. They outnumber us a thousand to one. Their government is a lot more willing to play nice with foreign governments than our Ministry is. When they turn on us, it's _bad_. By the time I decided to hop back in time, there was talk of nuclear weapons. That's how determined the Muggles were to destroy us."

*FPS*

Voldemort says nothing for a while. The Assistant wonders if he's thinking of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, at the time of which he'd been alive. Even the purest wizards with the most anti-Muggle ideals who had been alive in 1945 had heard about the destruction inflicted upon those cities.

*FPS*

"You tell a good story, Assistant."

"You don't believe me."

"Why should I? I have you tied and powerless, I killed your mother, I have attempted to kill you. Your thrilling tale is likely nothing more than an attempt to gain your freedom so that you can take your revenge."

The Assistant smiles, though it's strained. "There's two very important things you need to know, _my lord_. First: you are not the Voldemort who killed my mother any more than I am Harry Evans. My timeline, and everyone in it, is gone. To the best of my knowledge, it's never been recreated and all my attempts to do so have failed. I can only assume Lady Fate herself does not permit two identical timelines to exist."

His smile fades then and his green eyes seem to glow with power as he stares at Voldemort, his expression one that, even bound as he is, would make a lesser man run for the hills. Voldemort tightens his grip on his wand. "The second thing is that if I wanted you dead, you would have died in the graveyard before ever knowing I was there."

*FPS*

Voldemort's eyes are full of fury, but his voice is soft. "Would I?"

"Do not underestimate me."

Voldemort's mouth curls into something approximating a smile. He puts the tip of his wand to edge of the Assistant's wrist, just below the leather holding him, and slowly trails it along the man's arm. A line of burnt red flesh trails behind it and the Assistant arches off the rack, choking back a scream at first only to let it out as the wand passes over his armpit and carries on down his side, passing over his hip and all the way down his leg to his bound ankle. Only then does Voldemort lift his wand, raking satisfied eyes up the line of burnt flesh before he moves to lean over the Assistant, red eyes staring into green.

"I have you at my mercy, Harry," he says softly. "I have you bound and powerless, and we both know I do not need a wand to hurt you. You would torture yourself for me."

The Assistant lets out a weak chuckle. "I'm not that much of a masochist."

"Even if I told you to kill Harry Evans?"

The Assistant says nothing.

"Lucius told me about the Animancupium. He believes you to be Bound by that old magic and it is the reason for your pitiful moaning in the graveyard."

"Bully for Lucius."

Voldemort moves around and puts his wand to the Assistant's other wrist, once again slowly dragging his wand down the Assistant's skin and speaking as the flesh burns.

"I told you not to help young Harry and yet you did, suffering obvious agony for your disobedience. If I told you to kill him, how long would you endure the pain before the Animancupium overwhelmed you and forced you to obey me?"

The Assistant doesn't answer, even when the wand leaves his skin and his screams give way to whimpers and moans.

*FPS*

"Tell me who you are Bound to. It's certainly not to me, and yet it's my orders you must obey or suffer for it."

"No one in this timeline," the Assistant answers weakly. His eyes are lidded and his pulse beats rapidly in his throat. "Can't tell you how pissed off I was about that. Travel back in time and I'm still Bound by his fucking orders."

"Whose?"

"Like I said, no one in this timeline."

Tap, _clunk_, and the Assistant cries out.

"Tell me who your Master is."

The Assistant clenches his jaw and his body twitches, then he spits out, "Lucius Malfoy."

*FPS*

"Lucius is already Bound. The Animancupium does not permit two Bindings."

Surprise flickers through the pain. "He Bound James? Huh. But you're not paying attention—I told you, I'm Bound to the Lucius Malfoy of _my_ timeline, not yours. He might not be able to give me orders anymore, but I'm still tied to the bastard."

"The same Lucius who adopted you after your father's death."

"Yeah, well, turns out your counterpart wasn't quite so willing to trust that I was as dedicated to the cause as I claimed. He wanted me utterly obedient, so he had Lucius Bind me and give me two irrefutable orders: Always come when the Dark Lord calls, else I wouldn't have come tonight, and always obey him. That's the only time I know for certain he used my Trigger. I assume you've done enough research to know about that too?"

Instead of answering, Voldemort asks, "Why did my counterpart not Bind you himself?"

"Damned if I know. Consequently, my Binding to Lucius was also the reason I was stuck in Hogsmeade."

"Oh?"

"Tell you if you ease the stretching," the Assistant offers. "Otherwise I'm gonna pass out soon. Can't tell you nothing then."

"Talk until you do. Then I will wake you and you can talk again."

The Assistant closes his eyes and lets out a faint whimper, but opens his mouth and talks.

*FPS*

"After Lucius adopted me, Draco got shoved aside a bit. You know, he was a slightly above average wizard with attitude problems, but I was a super-powered whiz-kid eager to please... Draco became second best in everything but Quidditch the day I moved in, and Quidditch wasn't that high on Lucius' list of priorities. Didn't help that Narcissa was in prison before his tenth birthday. By the time we started at Hogwarts, Draco was desperate for someone to praise him, to give him a bit of the attention he deserved, and Dumbledore picked up on it immediately. He saw an opportunity to turn one of the Dark Lord's most loyal against his own family, bring him over to the light side, and he took it. By the time your counterpart returned, Draco was so taken with Dumbledore, that he denounced you. He stood by Dumbledore right up to his death and even then he refused to join us."

He pauses. His eyes are still shut, but his expression is bitter, mouth tight not only with pain but also hate and loss. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. "The Dark Lord ordered me to kill him. I can resist your orders because you're only his counterpart so the compulsion isn't completely there, but him I had to obey. We weren't even fifteen. Lucius would have stopped me if he'd been there, but the Dark Lord correctly guessed as much and purposely kept him away. Lucius realised too late that he'd done wrong by Draco, and when it was over he hated me for it. The Dark Lord forbade him to kill me, so Lucius ordered that I was to remain at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, unless called by the Dark Lord. Lucius never wanted to see me again."

He opens his eyes then, lifting them to meet Voldemort's. "But like I said, time travel didn't break the connection so I was still bound to obey him. I couldn't leave Hogsmeade until you called, but you didn't know I existed so my Mark only burned when you called for everyone, which this time around didn't happen until after you returned this summer."

He doesn't mention that after being summoned, he was free to go where he pleased. Over the years, he'd learned to exploit every loophole in his orders, but he wasn't about to mention _that_.

*FPS*

"So you aided me by allowing Peter Pettigrew to escape Auror custody," Voldemort says, fingering his wand, "because you knew he would seek me out and assist with my resurrection ritual."

"Yup. Aren't I nice? More than anyone else did."

"Yet less than what you could do."

The Assistant says nothing.

"You could have aided me sooner, Harry. You could have helped me retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. Why didn't you?"

"I was busy. Fell in love," he explains when Voldemort merely looks at him. "With a woman. Forgot all about you to be honest, until she left to go back to her husband."

*FPS*

Voldemort uses the Cruciatus again for that comment then leaves him under Nagini's watch while he goes to consider what he's learnt. As he leaves, the Assistant calls out, "You going to release me come morning? I wanted to see Lucius' trial. Be a shame to miss it," but he gets no response.

* * *

**A/N:** Animancupium is a combination of the Latin 'anima', meaning soul + 'mancupium', meaning property/possession. There will be more information about it later on in the story.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Harry wakes with a jerk the next morning, unsure of where he is and why he's sleeping in a large, warm, extremely comfortable bed. He looks around, sees Draco standing in front of a full-length mirror, and stares at him for a moment until the memories of the night before come back to him.

*FPS*

"How's your head?" Draco asks. He's fully dressed, wearing tailored robes over pressed, black trousers and gleaming pair of leather shoes, and doesn't pause in combing his hair as he speaks.

"My head?" Harry repeats, sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "It's fine. Why?"

"You had a seizure in your sleep, headbutted me hard enough to make my nose bleed."

"Sorry."

"I'll live."

*FPS*

There a tray on Draco's desk with some toast and a glass of juice on. "Breakfast for you," Draco tells him, gesturing to it. "That's what you normally have, isn't it?"

Harry nods, climbing out the bed and picking up his jeans from the floor. He'd slept in his boxers and t-shirt. "Thanks. Are you going somewhere?"

Draco turns before the mirror, inspecting himself and not looking at Harry's reflection as he answers. "My father's trial is this morning."

Harry looks away. "I should go," he mutters, grabbing his Firebolt. "Thanks for—"

"You can stay," Draco interrupts, finally turning away from the mirror. "Mother and I will be out most of the day and I've ordered Dobby—our house-elf—not to come in here. I've got my own bathroom, so you can shower," he says, waving a hand at the door, "and you're welcome to borrow a clean robe, though it might be a little too big, but it's better than putting on dirty clothes."

_Oh, go on. A shower's even better than having a bed to sleep in. Magical cleaning just doesn't do the job properly and you know it. I think we should really make the most of this. He's clearly smitten with you; we can use that to our advantage. Might have to—_

Harry shakes his head, ignoring the voice and pushing open the window. "Really, I should—thanks for letting me stay and everything, but..."

He trails off, not sure what he wants to say, and mounts the broom, flying out without looking at him. Draco goes over, leaning out and watching him fly away until he's too small to see, then sighs and pulls the window shut.

*FPS*

Sneaking into the Ministry is easy. Harry knows from reading about it how to get in through the visitor's entrance and then it's a simple matter of Wishing himself to look like an adult while simultaneously Wishing for himself to remain untraceable. He's caught off guard when he dials the number on the false telephone box and it asks for a name and the purpose of his visit, and quickly blurts out, "Tyler Lyle. I'm here to see Lucius Malfoy's trial."

As the visitor's badge pops out the change slot, he hopes Tyler won't mind him borrowing his name.

*FPS*

He walks slowly through the Atrium when the telephone box has deposited him, trying to look like he knows what he's doing as he follows the crowd. He comes up to the security desk and stands nervously as the gruff man runs a thin golden rod up and down his front and back then asks for his wand. Harry reluctantly hands it over and watches the man put it on a set of scales, which vibrate and spit out a small slip of parchment from a slit on the bottom. The man takes it, frowns, lifts Harry's wand and sets it down again, and takes a second slip.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use thirteen years. That correct?"

"Yes," Harry lies. The man grunts, crumples the first slip of parchment and tosses it in a small bin behind him then sticks the second on a small brass spike before handing Harry his wand.

"Here. Next."

*FPS*

Harry follows the crowd to the lifts and realises he's got no chance of getting into one alone or with only a few people; it's simply too crowded. After spending a quick minute eavesdropping to find out where the trial is being held, he squeezes into one with several other people and watches the little paper aeroplanes flit about overhead as he rides it down.

_We should go up. I've been telling you to sneak in here for ages. This is a great opportunity, you realise. We could get into the Minster's office. In fact if we go now, it'll be empty. He's bound to be at Lucius' trial. We could find out all sorts of things._

He ignores it. He's not interested in spying on the Ministry.

*FPS*

Lucius' trial is being held in courtroom ten before the entire Wizengamot. Harry slips in with the other visitors, trying not to look suspicious as he walks into the room. He's forced to keep moving once inside, sliding into the viewing seats with the others. When he sits down, he's horrified to find himself almost directly behind Narcissa and Draco, but they don't look around, their backs stiff and gazes fixed firmly on the chair in the centre of the courtroom.

He's even more horrified when Sirius and Lupin sit down behind him. He glances down at his visitor's badge, Wishes for the name to change, and watches it edit itself to read _John Smith_. They might not recognise his face with the glamour up, but they'd recognise Tyler's name and be smart enough to realise who he really was. He starts to think he's made a bad decision by coming here.

*FPS*

There's murmurs when Lucius is brought in. Although dressed in good robes with his hair tied into a neat ponytail at the base of his neck, he's not as well-presented as the Lucius Malfoy Harry remembers from the Quidditch World Cup. There's shadows under his eyes, his face looks paler, and he doesn't have the air of untouchable grace, dignity, and power. He's accompanied by a single Dementor and Harry shudders in his seat, shrinking back as the horribly familiar coldness washes over him, now absolutely sure that he's made a terrible decision but realising it's too late to back out.

The Dementor doesn't come close enough or stay long enough to really hit him, but he sits in his seat hoping and praying that even the brief encounter doesn't trigger a seizure. As he listens to Cornelius Fudge announce the purpose of the trial and name the involved parties to the court scribe, Percy Weasley, Harry notices Dumbledore sat with the rest of the Wizengamot, though not in the Chief Warlock's seat. He's also notices the gaggle of reporters eagerly scribbling away in notepads from the press seats, and is surprised not to see Rita Skeeter among them.

*FPS*

"I was in Godric's Hollow as one of the few Death Eaters the Dark Lord took with him when he went to kill the Potters. I was stationed at the edge of the village, alongside a small woodland, to keep watch for Aurors or anyone else who might interfere with the Dark Lord's plan. James Potter came walking along the lane shortly after we arrived, evidently angry. I attacked and subdued him with the intention of handing him to the Dark Lord, however at that moment there was an explosion from in the village. I left James tied up in the woods, far enough back that he wouldn't be seen, and went to investigate. I found the Potters' house heavily damaged with Lily Potter dead inside, Harry Potter injured, and the Dark Lord gone. I realised that something terrible must have happened and knew people would be on the scene in minutes. I found a cat trapped under debris, killed it, and transfigured the body to look like James. I knew the Dark Lord would be back and would still want James dead, so I saw no reason to let anyone believe he wasn't already. After, I returned to where he was and took him back to my home where I locked him in the cellar with the intention of holding him there until the Dark Lord returned. I had not expected to hold him for so long. My wife Narcissa, and my son Draco, were never aware of him. They are completely innocent of all things related to the capture and holding of James Potter."

*FPS*

A long silence follows Lucius' testimony as the people in the court absorb it. Lucius sits with his expression calm, almost bored, as though he'd just described nothing more than his morning routine. The expressions of everyone else in the courtroom range from shock, to hatred, to disbelief. Sirius' is one of pure loathing and Lupin stares at Lucius with hatred burning in his normally friendly eyes. Narcissa's face is carefully blank and Draco's is mixed shock, anger, and distress. Harry feels a mess of emotions, none of which he can quite put a name too.

*FPS*

Dumbledore is the first person to speak.

"Do you readily admit to being a Death Eater, a willing servant of Lord Voldemort?"

Lucius lifts his chin. "I do."

"Fourteen years ago, you claimed you were forced to do his bidding."

"Circumstances change."

"Would those circumstances be the return of Lord Voldemort?"

There's uproar.

*FPS*

"The Dark Lord has not returned," Lucius says when the courtroom eventually calms down. His gaze is fixed on Dumbledore and there's a slight lift to his lips, the barest hint of a smirk. "But when he does, I expect to be welcomed back with open arms and praises at my dedication to the cause. He will not begrudge my falsehoods years ago when it provided me the chance to keep James Potter safe for him. His discovery is a misfortune, but has the small benefit of allowing me to reveal my true loyalties."

"Then you deny that on the very night you were arrested, you were at a rebirthing ceremony for Voldemort?"

"Dumbledore!" Fudge hisses. "This is not—"

"I do deny it," Lucius interrupts the Minister. "As I told the Aurors, I was out with friends that night. The Dark Lord has not returned; when he does, I shall be among the first to know."

*FPS*

He's given a life sentence after admitting to using the Cruciatus and other dark curses on James during his imprisonment. Lucius's face is utterly blank of any emotion, but when the Dementor walks him out again and his back is turned to everyone in the room, fear flickers in his eyes.

*FPS*

Harry moves quickly past the reporters who are harassing Narcissa and Draco right outside the door. He feels bad, but not enough to stick around. He wants to get out of there and away from Sirius, and Lupin, but he's distressed to reach the lift and find them right behind him, along with Dumbledore. He tries to act normal, like they're just strangers to him, and hopes that some other people will come along before the lift arrives so he doesn't have to ride up alone with them, but he's not that lucky. It doesn't help that the voice is once again encouraging him to ride the elevator up to the Minister's office and have a snoop around.

*FPS*

They're halfway up to the Atrium when Lupin reaches over and jabs the emergency stop button.

"Remus, what—" Sirius begins, then breaks off when Lupin grabs the lapels of Harry's projected figure and shoves him back against the wall of the lift. Harry himself is just shoved backwards as Lupin suddenly slams into him, and the glamour breaks. Lupin staggers, jerks back, and stares at the empty space in front of him. Dumbledore quickly draws his wand and casts a spell that Harry doesn't recognise.

*FPS*

"He's here," Lupin says. "Harry?"

Sirius turns, looking around for him. "Harry? Kid, you here? C'mon, show yourself, we just want to talk."

Harry presses himself into the corner. He's not ready for this. He knows one day he's going to have to face them and talk about things, but not now, not like this.

He tries to Disapparate but slams into an anti-Apparition ward, a sensation he recognises from trying to Apparate into Hogwarts. He can't get to the button panel—Dumbledore's stood in front of it—and as Sirius moves closer, arms waving about in an attempt to find him, he realises that he's got no choice. He's not getting past them.

*FPS*

He drops the invisibility, body tense and still pressed into the corner, and all three adults widen their eyes, then Sirius grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrap around Harry tightly enough that he struggles to breathe, Harry's face is pressed into his shoulder, filling his nose with the familiar scent of him, and Harry's struck by an overwhelming desire to go home. Before he can stop himself, tears fill his eyes and spill down his cheeks and he grabs at Sirius' robes and sobs into his shoulder.

*FPS*

"Where the hell have you been, kid?" Sirius asks, still clinging to him, tears in his own eyes. "We've been worried sick about you."

Harry just cries harder.

"Let's get him home," Lupin says softly. "We can talk there."

*FPS*

Harry clings to Sirius' hand as he follows them out the lifts and into the Atrium, Wishing for no one to pay attention to any of them. They lead him over to the fireplaces lining the walls and Dumbledore leans in to mutter something to Lupin before he Disapparates. Lupin goes to a fireplace and floos through then Harry follows, hesitating as he steps into the flames but encouraged by the smile Sirius gives him, and throws down the floo powder and calls out "Black Stag House".

*FPS*

He sits on the sofa in the living room, Sirius beside him and Lupin in the armchair opposite, and stares at his hands.

"Harry, why did you run off?"

He shrugs and doesn't look up. There's a lump in his throat and he knows if he speaks he'll start bawling again. Sirius reaches over and combs his fingers through Harry's hair.

"C'mon, kid, talk to us. We've been worried about you."

Harry glances at him then at Lupin, see the truth of it in both their faces, and swallows thickly, rubbing at his face as tears force their way out.

"I... I thought..."

"You thought what?"

"I thought you wouldn't want me anymore," he mutters, then bites hard on his trembling lip, trying not to break down into sobs. Sirius and Lupin exchange startled glances.

"Why would you think that?" Lupin asks, and Harry can't hold it back any longer.

"Because you hate Snape!" he cries, then chokes on a sob. "Y-y-you always said how g-g-great my—James was and I d-d-didn't want you to h-h-hate me because I'm not—I'm not—"

"Oh, you bloody great moron," Sirius says affectionately, pulling him into hug. "Harry, we'd never hate you. Don't you ever think that. You're my godson, Harry. There's nothing that'd make me hate you."

*FPS*

Harry doesn't speak again until his sobs have reduced to the occasional hiccup. "But you said... in the Hospital Wing... you were really angry..."

Sirius sighs, stroking his hair. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have accused Snape of raping Lily, especially not in front of you like that. I'm sorry. But whatever I think of Snape, it's nothing to do with you. It doesn't matter that he's... your father," he says as though the words leave a horrible taste in his mouth, "you're still my godson and I still care about you."

"As do I," Lupins adds, smiling warmly when Harry glances at him.

*FPS*

Harry pulls away slightly so he can lift his head and look at Sirius. "Snape didn't—he didn't... rape my mum... did he?"

"No," Lupin says firmly. "He did not."

Harry nods, swallows thickly. "But why... I mean, you always said mum and d- and James really loved each other. Why would she cheat on him?"

"We don't have the answer to that, I'm afraid."

There's a brief pause and then Sirius adds quietly, "Snape probably does."

Harry presses his face against Sirius' chest and feels Sirius' arms tighten around him. "I'm not talking to him. Ever."

"You'll have to talk to him when you go back to Hogwarts," Lupin points out.

"No I don't."

"He's a teacher and your Head of House."

"Don't care," Harry says stubbornly.

*FPS*

Snape sits in his armchair after Dumbledore's left, one hand wrapped around the emerald pendant hanging about his neck. It's cool, as though having been sat in a refrigerator for hours, and glowing slightly. A shot glass sits on the rickety table beside him, empty but for a few drops of clear liquid clinging to the sides. He wants to floo to Gloucestershire, where Dumbledore had said Harry was returning with Black and Lupin, but he still remembers clearly the expression of utter loathing on Harry's face the day in the Hospital Wing and the pure hatred in his voice when he'd snarled, "You're _not_ my father." So he sits in his armchair, clutching the pendant that doesn't grow warm no matter how long he holds it.

*FPS*

"How did you know it was me?" Harry asks Lupin a little later. "At the Ministry."

"I didn't. I could smell you strongly and assumed the man had been in contact with you. I didn't realise it was you until I walked into you and the... ah..."

"Glamour," Harry provides.

"The glamour vanished."

"You smelt me? Really?"

"Werewolf," Lupin says with a self-depreciating smile. "It has very few benefits."

_Hopefully some that are less disturbing than his knowing your scent._

*FPS*

Hedwig turns up at the house just hours after Harry does, when he's in his room putting his photo's back up. Despite his warm welcome back, he'd half expected it to have been cleared out, but everything except the burnt figurines is exactly as it had been and he feels a rush of relief at the sight of it.

He throws the window open to let her in, smiling as she perches on his headboard, hooting softly and letting him pet her. Padfoot, who's been curled on the bed watching Harry, transforms into Sirius.

"Your friend's been looking after her. Cid? The tall one that swears a lot."

"Yeah, that's Cid."

"You should write to him, and the rest of your friends. They've all been worried about you."

Harry doesn't look at him, feeling guilty. He realises now how ridiculous he'd been for running away, how stupid it had been of him even if it felt like the obvious choice a month ago.

"There's something I don't get," Sirius says, watching him. "Why didn't you talk to us? Why just run away like you did?"

"I thought it'd be better if I just left instead of having to see you hate me."

Understanding crosses Sirius' face. "You preferred to walk out than be thrown out."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. _I'm_ sorry. I'm clearly doing something wrong in my godfatherly duties if you think I'd give up on you so easily."

"That's not true!" he cries. "You're a great godfather."

Sirius grins and Harry can't help smiling back.

*FPS*

"How long have you had a Firebolt?"

Harry looks over at where Sirius is admiring the broom, which is still the best one available even two years after it's release.

"I got it yesterday. I know I shouldn't have wasted my money seeing as I won't have so much anymore, but I wanted a broom and I couldn't resist that one."

Sirius frowns. "What do you mean you won't have as much?"

"I have to give it back, don't I? I'm not a Potter. It all belongs to James."

"It belonged to James and Lily and they left it to you, Harry. At most you'd have to give half of it back to James when he gets out of the hospital, but the rest is still yours. The two grand you got from Hopkins definitely is."

_Told you! You should consider opening your own vault though and transferring half of that money, just in case your dearest step-daddy does decides to claim it all back._

*FPS*

"What's wrong with him? James, I mean. At the trial, the psychiatrist said he's mentally unstable and that's why he couldn't testify. What does that mean?"

_It means he's crazy. Not unlike you_._ I'd say it runs in the blood, but..._

"Malfoy brainwashed him into believing all that pureblood idealist crap," Sirius tells him bitterly. "He turned him against us all."

"Can I... am I allowed to see him?"

"I'm not sure that's a great idea, kid. Last time we were there he said some pretty nasty stuff and he's tried to attack us."

"But he's being treated, isn't he? He's getting better."

"Hopefully. I'll contact the hospital," he offers, "and we can see if the healers think it's a good idea or not."

*FPS*

Just days after the trial of Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy makes a public statement denouncing her husband's actions, reiterates his claim that she was ignorant of it, and announces her impending divorce and that she will subsequently be retaking her maiden name of Black.

*FPS*

During James' next session with Sam, his personal psychiatrist, he rants and rages about how he needs to get out. He doesn't say where he wants to go, just that he needs to leave the hospital. She listens, making notes and trying to talk him down, but nothing works. He attacks her, shouting threats and trying to get her wand, and it takes three healers to pull him off and sedate him. She's shaken but unharmed, and it's not the first time a patient has attacked her. If anything, she considers it progress. He's threatened her, and every other healer, before but never personally—it was always a threat of what 'Master' would do when he came to get James. ("He will, you know. He'll come for me and you'll all be sorry when he does.") She hopes that this personal attack and desperate need to escape means he's letting go of some of his attachment and giving up the belief that Lucius was coming to break him out.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

The Assistant screams, writhing on the floor of a dusty and unfurnished bedroom in the Riddle House, to which he'd been moved the day of Lucius' trial. He'd been taken from the rack and given a robe, but his wrists had been re-cuffed in metal shackles etched with magic suppressing runes and then tied to the wall with a length of chain. He's been fed sporadically by Pettigrew and left a bucket to use for a toilet. Pettigrew and Voldemort are the only ones he's seen the last few days, which have been filled with questions as Voldemort tries to learn everything that the Assistant might know from having lived through other timelines similar to the current, all of it interspersed with bouts of Cruciatus or other forms of torture when Voldemort thought he was being untruthful or keeping things from him—such as now.

*FPS*

"Why did you not mention that your Animancupium Bond could be transferred?" Voldemort asks when he stops the Cruciatus.

"Why would I?" the Assistant rasps, curling up into a foetal position. "Why would I want to give power over me to someone else? More importantly, I don't want to be ripped away from my current Master."

"You current Master cannot even interact with you."

"He's still my Master." He groans and forces himself to get up to his knees, tilting his head back to look at Voldemort. "What does it matter to you anyway? You can still order me to obey you and I have to."

"You can fight. You told me yourself and I have seen you do it."

"I thought I wouldn't be welcome then. Ask me to join you, and I will be as loyal to you as I was to your counterpart."

*FPS*

Voldemort puts his wand under the Assistant's chin, pushing his head back further. "Is that so?"

"I swear it."

"Your word is not enough to me, Assistant."

He chuckles. "Alright, fair enough. Here's a deal: leave me alone for... what time is it? Like mid-afternoon? Give me until midnight and I'll prove myself loyal. I do that, you let me join the ranks without transferring my Bond. I don't, you can do the ritual and take it away. Deal?"

"I hope you are prepared to give yourself to a new Master, Assistant," Voldemort replies, turning and walking out, shutting and locking the door behind him.

*FPS*

Harry gets letters back from all his friends within days of writing to them. Cid expresses disappointment that he's no longer able to look after Hedwig and adds that he's glad Harry's safe only as an afterthought. Tyler says it's cool Harry's fine and asks where he's been, and then proceeds to rattle on about his summer (he's friends with Charlie again, and Alex's baby sister is walking and talking but still, in Tyler's opinion, an annoying little brat). Hermione asks multiple questions—is he okay? Where has he been? Does he want to talk about it? Has he considered therapy to help deal with the shock of his father's return?—and only briefly mentions that her own summer has been uneventful. Neville asks only if he's alright and offers to let him stay at his house for a few days if he needs somewhere to get away, then complains about homework and mentions the few things he'd done in the holidays.

He writes to Draco as well, thanking him again for his hospitality and, after lots of hesitation and worrying whether it was appropriate, briefly expressing sympathy for Lucius' imprisonment. The man deserves it, but that doesn't mean Harry doesn't realise it must be hard for Draco to lose his father. He doesn't sign the letter, but ends it with a question: _You still want to be friends?_

*FPS*

Shortly after six o'clock, Voldemort is interrupted from planning ways to steal the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries by the door to the sitting room swinging open. He turns in his seat, a curse on the tip of his tongue to punish Pettigrew for not knocking first, but he pauses when he see the Assistant, his appearance altered back to his blond haired, blue-eyed disguise, dressed not in the cheap black robe he'd been given, but a fine dark green one with his rune-covered cloak thrown over the top, prompting Voldemort to look around to where the cloak had been slung over the back of a chair. He'd intended to claim it as his own.

"Impressed yet?"

"Pettigrew."

The Assistant cocks his head. "Did you bang your head? I'm the Assistant, not the little rat."

"He let you out."

"Oh! No. Didn't you send him out to spy on James?"

"Then how?" Voldemort demands, rising to his feet. "If it wasn't Pettigrew, how did you escape?"

The Assistant smiles. "I'm not revealing all my secrets and you'd best not try because I'm not tied up now, so I don't have to stick around and let you torture me anymore. But the point is," he says, moving to get down on one knee before Voldemort, "I could have escaped anytime in the last few days. I could have just walked off and left, or even taken some revenge and tortured you, but instead here I am on my knees to profess my loyalty. So you're not going to transfer my Bond."

"Do you despise being Bound so much?"

"Only a man whose soul is his own would ask that."

Voldemort considers him for several long moments. The Assistant closes his eyes, waiting for his decision and hoping it doesn't involve more torture.

*FPS*

"I have learned," Voldemort says eventually, "that your information regarding the retrieval of the prophecy is correct and saved me a great deal of time on wasted endeavours sending other people to fetch it, and your actions this evening give credit to your desire to serve me, but you are not yet worthy of my trust. You will remain in the house unless I send you to do my bidding, in which case you will go only where I command and return as soon as your task is complete. You will obey my every command _to the letter_ or suffer the consequences. Prove yourself loyal to me, Assistant, and you shall retain your minor freedom."

The Assistant opens his eyes, lifting his head to meet Voldemort's gaze, holding it briefly before lowering his eyes and bowing his head.

"I am yours to command, my lord," he murmurs with complete sincerity.

*FPS*

Draco's reply comes on Harry's birthday, along with a Broomstick Servicing Kit as a present, which is a surprise. Draco says he's always happy to assist lonely little fourth years and he's more than welcome to come again, but via the front door, preferably, rather than through the window. He doesn't mention his father or Harry's sympathies, says the Broomstick Servicing Kit is to ensure Harry takes proper care of his new Firebolt, and also ends his letter with only a question: _Just friends?_

*FPS*

Sirius and Lupin have got him a cake and Harry can't help feeling a little undeserving of their joint present after the worry he'd put them through: _The Complete Encyclopedia of British Wizarding History, Volumes 1-15_.

"Thank you," he breathes, running his fingers adoringly over the books. "This is amazing."

_I've figured it out. You don't want to have sex with people because you're too enamoured with books. You're not asexual, you're book-sexual._

"Are you alright?" Lupin asks him. "You look a little flustered."

"I'm fine. Just... I'm really grateful for this."

*FPS*

He discovers it's not so awkward to discuss his sexuality and relationships in writing than talking about it in person, and manages to reply to Draco's letter without feeling completely uncomfortable. He does lock his bedroom door though; he might be just about able to write to Draco, who, after all, had kissed him and shared a bed with him, but he knows he'll turn into a blushing mess if Sirius or Lupin walk in on him. It still takes him a while to figure out what he wants to say and how to say it without offending the other boy, but when he remembers Draco's remark about not being "some Hufflepuff sod who'll cry and angst and start writing bad poetry if you reject me" it's easier to say he doesn't think they should have a relationship considering Harry's complete lack of interest in having any kind of sexual relations with another person.

*FPS*

"Siri-"

"Shh!"

Lupin snaps his mouth shut, frowning and approaching Sirius, who's stood outside Harry's door, very obviously eavesdropping.

"What are you doing?" Lupin asks when he reaches the other man.

"Listen," Sirius whispers.

Lupin frowns, but his curiosity is spiked and he hadn't been a marauder for nothing, so he leans close and presses his ear to the door.

*FPS*

"... in jail, he doesn't know anything and even if he wasn't you really think Lucius would tell Draco anything? ... that was nothing major, he wouldn't get told anything important, not about the Death Eaters ... what's Voldemort going to do with a teenager? He wants fully trained wizards, not kids ... oh yeah, he's really going to ask _me_ to join him ... he's _not_ my father and he's not a Death Eater ... he taught me to swim, remember? All the Death Eaters have the Dark Mark, I'd have seen it ... that's—fine, _maybe _he is and he concealed the Mark, but ... I'm not making excuses ... shut up, that's not true and I'm not listening to you."

*FPS*

Sirius and Lupin look at each other, neither of them speaking for a moment, but Harry says nothing more. Lupin lifts a hand to knock but Sirius grabs his wrist and shakes his head. Lupin raises an eyebrow. Sirius glares. Lupin sighs. Together they move down the hall to their own bedroom, not speaking until they're inside with the door shut.

"Who do you think he was talking to?"

"If you'd let me knock, we could have asked."

"We were eavesdropping, Moony; he'd hardly have appreciated that." He runs a hand through his hair then rubs at the back of his head. "It sounded like he was talking to himself."

"That's not unusual. A lot of people do. You do."

"I don't tell myself to shut up and say I'm not listening."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, Sirius," Lupin says, stepping forwards and slipping his arms around Sirius' waist. "He's spent a while on his own; he probably started talking to himself just to be able to talk. He'll stop after a few days."

"You think?"

Lupin kisses his stubbly cheek. "He'll be fine, Padfoot."

*FPS*

Harry's not impressed by what he reads in the papers as he catches up on all the news he's missed. Rita Skeeter has written nothing more—in fact she's been missing since the day of the third Triwizard Tournament task—but her last article about Harry being crazy had set a ball rolling. He's become someone to be pitied, a deluded child whose brain trauma resulted in unfortunate mental health issues and a fondness for ridiculous stories like the return of Voldemort.

_Here's a question: would it be more or less infuriating if it wasn't true? They might think they're bullshitting for now, but what happens when the truth comes out that you really are just a deluded child who hears voices?_

"Oh shut up," he snaps, tossing the paper down.

*FPS*

A week and a half later, Harry packs a bag with a few overnight things and steps into the fireplace after opening a slip of parchment from Dumbledore that reads:

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

*FPS*

They've told him about the Order and what it's for, but not any details about exactly what they're doing, although Harry thinks Sirius wants to tell him more than they did. It explains why Lupin isn't home as much as he had been the summer before and why Sirius looks worried whenever he's gone.

*FPS*

He floos out into a large, basement kitchen that's lit mostly by the fire he steps out of. It's gloomy and unwelcoming, as Sirius had told him it would be, and filled with the acrid smell of pipe smoke. A few people are sat at the table and they all look at him as he moves away from the fireplace, getting out of the way for Sirius and Lupin to come through after him.

*FPS*

He's introduced to Kingsley Shacklebolt, Bill Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, and Molly Weasley. As he's bustled out of the kitchen by Lupin—there's an Order meeting starting soon and he's not allowed to be involved despite his begging—he also passes an excitable man in a top hat who grabs Harry's hand and vigorously shakes it before carrying on towards the kitchen. They've almost reached the bottom of the staircase when the front door opens and Snape steps into the narrow hall. He freezes when he sees Harry and Lupin, and then there's a bang like a car backfiring as the troll-leg umbrella stand explodes, closely followed by an ear-splitting, blood-curdling shriek.

*FPS*

"_Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers_—"

Sirius comes hurtling out of the kitchen and he and Lupin hurry forwards to grab the moth-eaten curtains on either side of the portrait. The moment the woman sees Sirius, she blanches, eyes popping

"_Yoooou! Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!_"

"SHUT UP!" Sirius roars as he and Lupin yank the curtains shut. Immediately the woman's shrieks die, leaving an echoing silence in the hallway.

*FPS*

"What was that?" Harry asks, lowering his hands from his ears.

"That's my mother," Sirius tells him. "What set her off? I heard a bang... what's this?" he asks, nudging a bit of leathery grey skin with his toe.

"That was your umbrella stand," Lupin answers, smiling. "I think you'll find more of it over there, and there, and there."

"Right, and why is it in pieces? Not that I'm complaining; bloody thing was horrible."

"I made it explode," Harry admits sheepishly.

"Why? Oh," he says, noticing Snape for the first time, still stood by the front door. Sirius gives him a filthy look then turns back to Harry, ignoring the other man. "Don't worry about it."

*FPS*

Harry doesn't look at Snape again, heading up the stairs after Lupin, who leads him to a room on the second floor where he'll be spending the next couple of nights while it's the full moon. Lupin leaves him there with an apologetic smile and says he'll be able to come back down to the kitchen when the meeting's over. Harry looks around the room, which has got twin beds, a rickety looking cupboard, and the same gloomy, dingy feel as the rest of the house.

*FPS*

Two loud _CRACKs_ sound in quick succession and Fred and George Weasley appear in the middle of the room. Harry jumps and staggers back, tripping over his own feet and landing painfully on his backside. The twins snigger and Harry scowls.

"What did you do that for?" he demands.

"We just thought we'd come and say hello," George says, holding out a hand to help him up.

"Didn't know you'd be so jumpy," Fred adds.

"Well you sound like a gun going off, anyone would be jumpy," Harry says, rubbing at his backside.

"Sound like a what?"

"A gun. It's a Muggle weapon and it's really noisy."

"Is that where you vanished to for a month—"

"—Hanging out with Muggles?"

"Pretty much," he answers.

"Doing what?"

"What's it to you?"

They both shrug and answer together, "Curiosity."

*FPS*

Harry gives them both a suspicious look, but moves back over to the bed and continues to pull out the book he'd been taking from his bag when they appeared.

"Blimey, is that thing big enough?" Fred says, and Harry glances down at his bag, but the other boy takes the book from him. "_The Complete Encyclopedia of British Wizarding History,_" he reads, "_Volume twelve_. Merlin, who'd want twelve books this big on history?"

"There's fifteen actually," Harry says, snatching it back and clutching it protectively to his chest. "And I do."

The twins exchange glances then George sidles over and flings a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Your reading ambitions are admirable, Evans, but we had plans for more informative activities that we were hoping you'd give us a hand with."

"Or rather, an eye."

Harry looks between them suspiciously. "Like what?" he asks, but the voice answers for them.

_The meeting, you imbecile. We can spy on it. How in Merlin's name did you ever become a Slytherin with such a complete lack of interest in other people's activities?_

"What use is spying on them when we can't hear what they're saying?" he asks the twins and the voice.

"You can see what they're doing, Evans," Fred says in an exasperated tone. "We can at least figure out something."

"We do have a great idea for a listening device called Extendable Ears," George remarks, "but finances aren't what they should be."

"And overbearing parents aren't as encouraging as they could be," Fred mutters.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asks, but Fred waves a dismissive hand.

"It's nothing."

*FPS*

There's a knock at the door then it opens before Harry can call for entry and Ginny and Ron come in, Ron looking grouchy and scowling at him, but Ginny gives a small smile and greets him.

"So, will you do it?" she asks, clearly aware of what the twins had come here for.

_Go on, you know you want to, and you're not getting any reading done with this lot hanging about._

"Fine," he grumbles, putting down his book and sitting on the bed, swivelling his magical eye to look down at the kitchen as the others all sit down as well. "Well, they're talking and looking at a bunch of scrolls."

"What's on the scrolls?" George asks.

"I can't pick out that kind of detail from this far, but your brother's pointing at something on it and—wait, Moody's about to—argh!"

He jerks back, blinking furiously as white spots fill his vision from the massive burst of light that'd exploded from Moody's wand.

"You alright? What happened?"

He shakes his head to try and clear his vision and looks back at the kitchen, but it's like looking at a solid black box.

"I think Moody realised what I was doing. I can't see in anymore, they must have charmed it."

"Well that was a waste of time," Ron says, getting up and slouching out the door again. Ginny gets up to follow him.

"Worth a try. See you later."

*FPS*

"What were you talking about earlier?" Harry asks the twins. "Extendable Ears?"

"It's just an idea we have," Fred says dismissively.

"One of many," George sighs.

"What, to invent? Joke things like you were telling Sirius about last term?"

Fred and George look at each other and Harry gets the impression they manage to have a silent conversation in the space of seconds, then Fred says, "We're only telling you this because you're the son of one Marauder and godson to another."

"We've got loads of ideas for joke shop items and we'd really love to start our own joke shop."

"But we haven't got the finances. We want to go to Gringotts for a loan—"

"—but our mother doesn't approve of our career plans and we're stuck in the house."

"Not to mention we can't be sure they'd give us one anyway, even with a good word from Bill."

"He works there," George explains when Harry frowns. "He used to be a curse breaker working in Egypt, but he got a desk job so he can join the Order."

*FPS*

Harry looks between them, thinking for a moment, then says, "I can give you money."

_You'd better not. That's our money._

'My money,' Harry thinks, biting his tongue to stop from replying out loud. 'And you're the one who says I've got too much and nothing to spend it on.'

"We don't need charity, Evans," Fred says sharply.

"It's not charity. I think you guys opening a joke shop is a great idea and I think Sirius and Remus and... and James would approve too."

_The Weasleys are blood traitors. If Sirius is right, your crazy step-daddy would probably burn any shop of theirs to the ground._

"I've hardly touched that grand I won from the Triwizard Tournament. I've got plenty of money anyway, so you can have the rest of my winnings from that. I don't need it."

"That's a lot of money to give away, Evans."

"It's to a good cause. With Voldemort—" the twins flinch "—back everyone's going to need a good laugh. You've only got one more year at Hogwarts, so that's a year to set yourselves up and get things started."

"Are you sure about this?"

Harry nods. "Like I said, I've got plenty of money and nothing to do with it, and you've got a great idea. It's a win-win situation."

"You know, Evans," Fred begins, grinning.

"You're not so bad for a Slytherin," George finishes.

*FPS*

"Why don't you take that down?" Harry whispers to Sirius later when the meeting is over and they're creeping past Mrs Black's portrait to the kitchen for dinner.

"We've tried but it looks like she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas."

Harry glances back at it, makes a Wish, and there's a thud and a shriek. As the portrait's angry screams fill the house, Sirius looks at Harry, who shrugs and grins, and Sirius chuckles.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Harry gets roped into helping clean the drawing room. He wouldn't have minded so much if he could use Wish Magic, but he wasn't revealing that to the Weasley family, least of all Ron, who made it perfectly clear he didn't think a potentially insane Slytherin should be in the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, even if he was the Boy Who Lived and Sirius' godson.

_He'd shut up if you pointed out that you were the one who saw Voldemort return and none of them would know about it if it weren't for you_, the voice points out, but Harry doesn't think that'd help. Ron would probably start accusing him of helping Voldemort willingly or something.

*FPS*

They spend the morning clearing out the doxy infestation in the curtains, and then after a lunch of sandwiches that Mrs Weasley brings up they start clearing out the cabinets, which proves harder than expected because certain items where reluctant to leave the dusty shelves and others were hexed or jinxed. Harry doesn't mind that so much as Sirius arrives to help out, thus meaning he's not left alone with the Weasleys, but Sirius regrets the decision when a snuff box bites him. Harry gets distracted by a book titled _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ until Sirius snatches it from him to flatten a pair of many-legged tweezers that try to stab Ginny when she picks them up.

*FPS*

_Take it_.

Harry doesn't even think about arguing. The locket is heavy and refuses to open and Sirius says to chuck it in the rubbish with everything else, but Harry Wishes it invisible, creates a duplicate, and tosses that in the rubbish while pocketing the real thing.

*FPS*

He inspects it later, in his borrowed room with the door locked. It's as large as a chicken's egg, inlaid with many small green stones in the shape of an _S_, glinting dully in the candle light of the room.

"Why did I steal this?" he mutters, falling back against the pillows and holding it up by the chain, watching it spin slightly. Draco might say he's got no fashion sense, but even Harry's aware that the locket isn't something anyone with decent taste in apparel would wear.

_Because_, murmurs the voice.

"Because what? It's ugly, it won't open, and there's no point in me selling it even if it's worth anything."

But the voice, for once, is silent. He sighs, drops it into his bag, and rolls over to sleep.

*FPS*

When Harry gets back home, he practices using Wish Magic in front of a mirror to change his features. He figures that if a normal witch or wizard can do it, then so can he even if he isn't a Metamorphmagus like Tonks. If he ever decides to disguise himself again, he needs something better than the glamour which had fallen apart so easily in the Ministry.

*FPS*

Sirius hears a crash and goes up to investigate when he gets no response from Harry and finds him seizing in the bathroom, bleeding profusely from a cut along his right temple, which had hit the sink when he fell, judging by the blood on the rim. Sirius moves him into the hallway where he's in less danger of hurting himself further and then anxiously waits for it to stop.

*FPS*

Sirius insists on taking him to the hospital afterwards because of the blow to his head. Harry doesn't argue even though he feels no worse than he normally does after a seizure. He still needs to pick up more of his epilepsy potion. When they get there, to Harry's surprise he's not seen by any of the healers in the A&E department, but by Kirith.

*FPS*

"Hello, Harry, it's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm okay. Bit beat up," he says, pointing to his head.

"Yeah, I can see that. Let's have a look. What happened?"

"Had a seizure, hit the sink on my way down."

"Well the wound isn't bad," Kirith says, healing it with a quick tap of her wand. "How you feeling? Dizzy, headache, more sleepy than normal?"

"No, I'm fine," Harry replies as Kirith peers into his eyes, shining a thin beam of light from her wand at the normal one, then taking Harry's wrist and checking his pulse.

"Tell me your name."

"Harry Evans."

"Where are you?"

"Saint Mungo's hospital."

"The date?"

"Sixteenth of August."

"And where did you vanish to for a month?"

"Lon-" he breaks off. "That's not a normal question to ask when checking for concussion."

Kirith smiles. "No it's not, but you had us all worried about you. You were meant to come for an examination last month. Eyes and head."

Harry stares guiltily at his hands, but Kirith just finishes checking his pulse, still smiling.

"I'll book you in for one as soon as I can, but it probably won't be until after school starts. I know how fond you are of it, though, so I'll try and make it a weekend appointment."

*FPS*

"Everything alright at home?" Kirith asks as she finishes the check up and Harry looks at her in surprise.

"Yeah. Why?"

She steps away, pulling closed the curtain around the bed and activating the complete privacy charms, preventing anyone beyond them from hearing what they say. "I know that Severus Snape is your father."

Harry glances away, jaw clenching. "Who told you?"

"I'm involved with James' physical recovery and when I dug up his archived medical files, I noticed they didn't match what Professor Snape gave me the first time I saw you. I confronted him about it—accurate family medical history is important—and he told me. I know it must have been difficult for you to learn about it, and I know Snape and your godfather don't get along, so I want to make sure things are alright at home. That your relationship with Sirius hasn't been badly affected by this news."

"It's not," he assures her. "Me and Sirius are fine."

"What about you and Snape?"

"I _hate_ him," he answers viciously.

"Because he never told you?"

"Because he left me with my aunt and uncle. I'm supposed to be his son and he just left me there, and then he had the nerve to act like a guardian to me when I got to Hogwarts. He had no right to do that."

The curtain rail above them and the bed frame are both rattling and Harry forces himself to breath in deep and let it out slowly, getting his magic back under control so they stop. Kirith glances down at the clipboard with Harry's notes on and scribbles something then says, "I've got a friend working in psychiatry. If you want, I can get you a referral. It might—"

_NO!_ the voice shouts, and Harry echoes it, then, when Kirith looks startled, adds "Sorry, I just... I don't need to see a psychiatrist."

_Last thing I need is you getting friendly with some head shrink and spilling the beans on me_.

"Alright," Kirith says calmly. "If you change you mind, drop me an owl. I'm always happy to help my favourite patient."

*FPS*

"Hey, kid, can we have a word?"

Harry folds the corner of his page and sits up on his bed as Sirius and Lupin come in, Lupin taking the chair at the desk and Sirius joining Harry on the bed. "About what?"

"Severus," Lupin says, and Harry scowls.

"Nothing to talk about."

"Harry, we understand why you're angry at him—"

"No you don't. You can't understand any of it."

"You're not the only one that came from a bad family, kid," Sirius says. "You're not even the only one to run away from home. I did."

"You did?"

"You saw my house, you met my mother. You really surprised I wanted to get away from that place?"

Harry shrugs, looking down. "It's not the same."

"No, but I get what it's like to hate your parents."

"I'm still not talking about it. He hates me, I hate him. That's all there is to it."

"He doesn't hate you, Harry," Lupin says.

"If that was true, he wouldn't have left me there. I'm not talking about it," he says again, picking up his book, opening it and staring at the page. Lupin and Sirius exchange glances, Lupin gets up, and Sirius sighs, reaching over to ruffle Harry's hair before standing as well.

"Dinner's in half an hour," he says, following Lupin out and closing the door behind them. When it clicks shut, Harry sighs, puts the book aside and flops down against the bed, pressing his face to the pillow.

*FPS*

_It's no use wishing Sirius was your dad. We'd still have been abandoned as a baby. He went off and got thrown in prison, remember?_

"He might not have if he had a kid to look after."

_He did have a kid to look after. He was supposed to look after you, his godson, but he was more interested in revenge. Face it, adults are unreliable and only interested in you so long as you don't interfere with the rest of their lives._

*FPS*

Wormtail squeaks. Voldemort gives an aggrieved sigh. The Assistant, lying on the floor under the kitchen table, can easily imagine the irked expression on his face even if he can't currently see it.

"Where's Pettigrew?" Voldemort asks, clearly deciding not to comment on the state of the kitchen, which is currently filled with a maze of plastic tubes designed for exercising and entertaining small rodents.

"Um..." The Assistant squirms forward a little, turns his head and looks around the kitchen, then answers, "About to fall into the sink, from where he'll have to pass through the pantry to get out. I think. Or possibly through the cooling cabinets and down—"

Voldemort draws his wand and with a wave the maze collapses. The Assistant watches it all crash down around him, not moving until the noise has faded and Pettigrew, human once more, is picking himself up out of the mess. The Assistant wriggles out from under the table and gets to his knees, dusting off his front.

"I spent all morning building that."

"I am growing weary of you, Assistant."

"I'm growing weary of being stuck in this house, my lord. It's been three weeks and you haven't even let me down to the village to get laid. We carry on like this and I'll have to resort to shagging Wormtail, and let's face it, he's no one's ideal bed mate."

"Hey!" Pettigrew cries. They ignore him.

"Unless you're willing," the Assistant adds with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

*FPS*

"Y'know," the Assistant says when Voldemort's finished punishing him for his last remark, "I'd be less inclined to make annoying comments if you'd give me something to do." He gets to his feet, waving a hand to vanish the mess of broken tubes, and faces Voldemort. "In all seriousness, my lord, there's little point in having me if you don't use me."

"I will use you when I have need to. For now, you will return to your room."

The Assistant clenches his jaw, but nods stiffly and bows before stalking past him and out the room.

*FPS*

James doesn't look like the man in Harry's pictures. That man had been young, full of life, and happy. The James Potter sat in a chair opposite Harry, with a psychiatrist to one side, is old beyond his years, brown eyes haunted and shadowed behind his round glasses, pale face covered with several days growth, and fingers tapping restlessly as he inspects Harry as closely as Harry inspects him.

*FPS*

"So," James says eventually in a rough voice. "You're the Mudblood's bastard."

"James," scolds Sam, the psychiatrist. "Language. We discussed this."

James doesn't even glance at her. Harry swallows. She'd told him what James was like, but that didn't prepare him for hearing the man he'd always believed to be his father calling him a bastard and his mother a Mudblood.

"She was your wife," he says, not sure how else he's meant to respond. "You loved her. Everyone says so."

"They're wrong. I was wrong. It wasn't real; I was just young and stupid. She was a cheating Mudblood whore."

"She was my mum," Harry says quietly.

*FPS*

Sam said she already knew about Harry's true parentage from James and that she was bound by confidentiality to James not to reveal anything from their sessions. Harry isn't reassured by that, not after what Hopkins did, but he doesn't see that he has any choice.

*FPS*

"Master told me it was Muggles who did that," James says, looking at Harry's magical eye.

He nods. "My uncle."

James' eyes flick sideways as he searches his memory, then look back to Harry. "Petunia's husband?"

Harry nods again. James leans forward in his seat. Sam tenses a little.

"It's proof."

"Proof of what?"

"Master's right. The Muggles and Mudbloods. They hate us and they want to hurt us. They did that to their own family; what would they do to the rest of us? They need putting down before—"

"That's enough," Sam interrupts. "James, today is supposed to be a chance for Harry to meet you. Be polite, or we'll end it now."

James shoots her a murderous look. "He is meeting me. This is who I am. I didn't ask any of you to try and change that and if he doesn't like it it's his problem, not mine. I didn't ask him to come here."

_I'm starting to like your step-daddy. If nothing else, he's honest._

*FPS*

"Would you have raised me?" Harry asks. "If Lucius hadn't kidnapped you, would you have raised me after Mum died?"

James doesn't answer immediately and Harry thinks he looks almost conflicted, but then his face sets. "I'd have given you to your father and let him raise his own bastard."

"James," Sam murmurs warningly.

"What?" he snaps. "It's the truth. He's a bastard child, nothing more."

Harry gets up. "I want to leave now."

*FPS*

Sirius staggers a little when Harry barrels into him and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug the moment he reaches him in the waiting room. Sirius hugs him back and looks over his shoulder to where Sam's just coming out of the meeting room with James. James shoots Sirius a filthy look and jerks his arm away from Sam when she touches it lightly, stalking down the hall towards the rest of the ward.

"You alright, kid?"

"I want to go home," Harry replies, voice muffled against Sirius' chest.

*FPS*

The Assistant sits on his bed with a slingshot, conjuring small pebbles which he shoots at the paper aeroplanes whizzing about the room. When the door opens, he shoots a pebble towards it and is rewarded with the satisfying sound of Pettigrew's high-pitched shriek as the small rock flies past his ear. The Assistant chuckles, unbothered by the glare the smaller man gives him.

"You almost hit me!"

"Almost being the key word. If I'd wanted to hit you, I would have. What d'you want, Peter?"

"The Dark Lord wants to see you."

"Huzzah," the Assistant says, leaping off his bed and vanishing the aeroplanes and slingshot, then pausing. "Does he actually want me to do something or is he just in a mood and looking to torture someone?"

"I don't know. Go find out. I'm going to bed."

*FPS*

The Assistant sweeps into the sitting room and kneels before Voldemort, murmuring a polite greeting then standing when Voldemort tells him to rise.

"How are your mind-altering skills, Assistant?"

"Pretty good. What sort of mind-altering are we talking about?"

"Wormtail has been spying on James Potter for me. He is under guard at Saint Mungo's hospital, but his recovery is making little progress. I need you to sneak in and encourage it enough that things speed up, but not so much as to draw suspicion. James Potter is of little use to me in Saint Mungo's psychiatric ward."

The Assistant nods. "I can do that."

*FPS*

He creeps into Saint Mungo's during the night, stealing into James' room, and looking down at the sleeping man. He's clearly in the throes of a nightmare, his face tense, forehead covered by a thin sheen of sweat, letting out small, distressed whimpers. The Assistant lays a hand on the dark hair and closes his eyes as he works. It takes a few minutes, a task that requires stealth and caution to ensure that James' recovery seems natural. When he's done he removes his hand and slips out again, silent and unseen by anyone.

*FPS*

"I want you guys to have this."

Lupin takes the invisibility cloak from Harry, exchanging glances with Sirius. "Why?"

"Dumbledore only gave it to me because he thought James was my dad, but I don't need it and you're his friends so you should have it."

*FPS*

Harry's Hogwarts letter and book list finally arrive on the very last day of August. Sirius and Lupin both accompany him to Diagon Alley to buy his stuff and help him open a Gringotts account. He takes precisely half of what's in the Potter vault and transfers it to his own. He also deposits the locket he'd stolen from Grimmauld Place. The voice insisted on keeping it, but it made Harry feel weird and uncomfortable and he didn't like having it in his room. Keeping it in his vault appeases both of them.

*FPS*

Harry doesn't react when Draco slinks up behind him in Flourish and Blotts while he's browsing Defence Against the Dark Arts books. The assigned one doesn't look impressive and given their history of Defence teachers, Harry wants something useful for the possibility of yet another Lockhart. For a moment neither boy speaks then Draco says, "You can see me, can't you?"

"Yep."

Draco sighs, shifting to stand beside him, turning and leaning back against the bookcase, folding his arms over his chest. "Well I suppose you don't have to worry about anyone stabbing you in the back, but heaven forbid someone try to romantically sneak up on you."

"Is that what that was?" Harry asks lightly.

*FPS*

_Did you just _flirt_ with him?_ the voice asks incredulously.

'No! That wasn't flirting.'

_Sounded like flirting. Looked like flirting._

'It wasn't. Was it?'

The voice just laughs at him.

*FPS*

Draco scoffs. "Romanticism is best left to Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and eighteenth century artists, and you turned me down, remember?"

Harry looks at him with his magical eye, but doesn't mention their following correspondence, which had included Draco asking if there was ever the chance of them getting together, and Harry replying that there was a very minor possibility.

*FPS*

"Are you here with your mother?"

Draco nods. "She's at Gringotts. I'm just getting my books before meeting her at Twilfits and Tattings. I'm getting some new robes to go with my new status."

Harry frowns, pulling a book off the shelf. "New status?"

"You're talking to Slytherin's newest prefect."

"You made prefect?"

Draco looks offended. "You thought I wouldn't?"

Harry shrugs, grinning, and looking down at the book, flipping it open to check the table of contents. "I didn't think about it at all, but it could just as easily have gone to Theo Nott or Blaise Zabini."

"You offend me, Evans. I'm clearly the only choice for prefect."

"If you say so. Who's the other one?"

Draco shrugs. "I don't know yet, but I'd be willing to put money on Pansy."

"Really?"

"Well it won't go to Millicent Bulstrode; she's too thick. Tracey Davis got caught shagging Montague in a classroom last spring and she's got a record for hexing Hufflepuffs, so she won't get it, and Daphne Greengrass... well, she's about as remarkable as a pig in a pigsty. She probably didn't even occur to Snape as an option."

"You hex Hufflepuffs," Harry points out, ignoring the mention of Snape, who's mere name makes him angry. "And Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws."

"Yes, but I don't get caught, so it's unimportant."

*FPS*

He gets a couple of books on Defence that look useful and a few extra books on runes as well. It'd been runes that left him so powerless in the graveyard; he wants to know exactly how and if there's any way to counteract them.

*FPS*

Sam sits with James in his room, watching him and not saying a word. Since the time he attacked her, he's sat in sullen silence through most of their sessions, glaring at her. Today he's curled in the chair in the corner, legs drawn up, one elbow leant on his knee whilst his hand rests against his scraggily hair, fingers of the other hand tapping restlessly against the chair's arm. He's staring at the wall, but every so often he'll glance at her as if he wants to say something but never does. She keeps quiet, knowing that if she says the wrong thing he might never say what he clearly wants to.

*FPS*

There's ten minutes left of their session when he finally says, "I'm not betraying him."

She's heard the words before, but usually they're shouted in defiance. This time they're said hesitantly, almost asking for confirmation.

"No one's asking you to."

"I'm not—" He cuts himself off and stares angrily at the wall. He doesn't say anything else for the rest of the session, but it's progress.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

That evening Sirius and Lupin sit Harry down in the sitting room with serious expressions on their faces and say, "We need to talk about Snape."

Harry scowls and folds his arms over his chest. "I told you I don't want to."

"We know, but the last time you saw him you blew up an umbrella stand," Lupin reminds him.

"I didn't mean to," he say sulkily.

"We know that," Sirius assures him. "But your magic is volatile and that's going to a be a problem for your Potion lessons. We don't want you or anyone else in the classroom getting hurt because you're too angry at Snape to control your magic."

_You could always just direct your anger so that only Snape gets hurt. That would hardly be a loss._

Harry's can't think of a good reason to argue with it, nor does he want to.

_Might be messy though, blowing up Snape. There'd be blood and guts everywhere. It'd definitely ruin any potion the class was working on, but it would be a one time thing so it might be worth it. Of course there is that slight matter of being imprisoned for murder, but if your godfather can break out I'm sure we can._

*FPS*

Lupin and Sirius exchange glances as they watch Harry's face twitch slightly. He's still scowling, arms folded over his chest, but there's a definite sense that he's not all there, though not in the way they've come to expect from his focal seizures.

*FPS*

"So what do you expect me to do?" Harry asks grumpily.

"We've come up with two suggestions," Lupin says. "One is that you take a Draught of Peace before each Potions class."

"You think that would work?"

Lupin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial of purple potion. "We can test it now."

"What's the other suggestion?"

Sirius leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You wear magic suppress-"

"No."

"It would only be for the duration of Potions classes. The rest of the time you wouldn't wear them."

"They nearly killed me," Harry snarls. "I'm not wearing them."

"Then you'll have to try the potion now," Lupin says.

"And if it doesn't work? If I still blow things up?"

They don't answer, but Sirius doesn't quite meet Harry's gaze.

"You'll force me to wear the cuffs."

"Your magic is volatile, Harry," Lupin reminds him. "You put yourself and other people in danger when you can't control it. We're only looking out for your best interests."

_Funny how that involves controlling you and forcing things on you._

*FPS*

He thrusts his hand out for the potion. "Fine."

Lupin hands it over and he unstoppers it, pausing to ask how much he needs then downing a mouthful. The effects are immediate. He feels his whole body relax and he doesn't care so much that they're talking about Snape or that Lupin's standing up and throwing floo powder into the fireplace, kneeling and sticking his head in the flames then calling out, "Hogwarts, Severus Snape's quarters."

*FPS*

Nothing explodes when Snape steps out of the fireplace. Harry still hates him and he's still more than glad when he leaves again, but he doesn't blow anything up or feel more than a mild desire to see him eaten by a manticore. The voice in his head is completely silent.

*FPS*

Harry dreams of walking down a corridor that ends in a locked door. It's not the first time he's had that dream—it's been plaguing him all summer—but it's annoying. Every time he does have it, he wakes up feeling frustrated and with his scar prickling.

*FPS*

The next morning, Harry floos into Grimmauld Place with his trunk shrunken down in his pocket with Hedwig's cage in his trunk, having already sent Hedwig flying ahead, and gets greeted by the sounds of Mrs Weasley shouting at her children to hurry up and get their things down by the front door. Harry's going to King's Cross with them all, under the guard of some of the Order members. They walk there, a twenty minute trip that Harry takes with Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks (disguised as an old woman and walking along a small distance behind them). At the station, Harry says his goodbyes to Sirius and Lupin, shakes Tonks' hand, and boards the train, finding a compartment, enlarging his trunk and stowing it away before settling into the seats.

*FPS*

He's joined by Tyler and Alex Stone not long after the train's set off, then Cid comes along and sits with them. Harry's not surprised when the discussion of what they'd done all summer turned to his disappearance.

"Did you run off because of your dad?" Alex asks, then yelps when Tyler jabs a finger in his ribs.

"Yes," Harry answers honestly, and they all look at him curiously, but it quickly turns to disappointment when he adds, "But I don't want to talk about it, or what happened at the end of last year."

*FPS*

Hermione and Neville stop by the compartment a little after lunch. They've both been made prefects, much to Hermione's pleasure and Neville's apparent shock, and Harry congratulates them before they carry on with their patrol.

*FPS*

He's just returning from the toilet when he comes across Fred, George, and Lee Jordan laughing raucously as they shove Draco from a compartment. Draco's got blood pouring from his nose, soaking the front of his robes and making his already pale face look bone white in comparison, and he's retching, dropping to one knee as he vomits all over the floor. Harry pushes through the crowd of onlookers, none of whom move to help.

"What the hell did you do?" he asks the three Gryffindors, crouching by Draco.

_Tried to kill him by the looks of things._

"We needed someone to test our new Skiving Snackboxes on," Fred answers, still grinning. "He volunteered."

"Volun- he's bleeding all over the place. He can't breathe, for Merlin's sake. Have you got a cure?"

"What for? The snake deserves it for what he did to your dad."

*FPS*

Fury fills Harry. He only just thinks to draw his wand and point it at Draco, murmuring nonsense as he Wishes for the nosebleed and the vomiting to stop. When he's sure the other boy is no longer in danger of suffocating or choking, he straightens up, turning on the Gryffindors. The humour leaves their faces as he raises his wand, face furious.

"Lucius Malfoy imprisoned James, not Draco," Harry snarls. "Draco didn't even know about it."

"Like hell he didn't," George says. "Your dad—"

"Is _my _fucking dad!" Harry yells. "Not yours! Draco had nothing to do with it. I believe that and I'm the only person it should matter to. If you—or anyone else," he says, looking around at the people watching all along the corridor and poking their heads out of compartments, "attacks Draco again because of some misguided need to take revenge for James Potter, you can answer to me. Draco is my friend; I'm not going to let anyone attack him for what his father did."

He stalks forwards then and grabs George's arm, standing on tip toes so he can hiss in the other boy's ear, "I gave you that money to start your shop, not to make things you can use to bully people. Don't make me regret it."

*FPS*

He vanishes the vomit and blood on the floor with a murmured, "_Evanesco_," then orders a group of first years out of a compartment and pulls Draco inside, shutting the door behind them.

"You alright?"

"My robes are _ruined_."

"I'll take that as a yes," Harry says dryly.

"These are brand new, Evans. I'm going to murder those arseholes."

"Do you want me to clean up your face first?"

Draco touches his mouth, lip curling distastefully as he feels the blood covering his face. "That would be appreciated," he mutters. Harry moves his wand in a circular motion in front of Draco's face and silently Wishes the blood away then does the same to his robes. Draco watches him, grey eyes fixed on Harry's face.

"I'm pretty sure we don't learn silent casting until sixth year, Evans," he says quietly when Harry's finished. Harry pockets his wand and smiles cheekily.

"You think I read all those books just for fun?"

"Books don't teach people to cast silently."

"They help. Besides, all the other shit in my life, I think I deserve to have a few extra skills that most people don't."

"Oh? What other skills have you got?"

Harry smirks. "I'm a Slytherin, Draco. I'm not about to spill my secrets that easily."

_You're flirting again._

'Shut up,' he thinks.

*FPS*

He spends the rest of the trip to Hogwarts sat with Draco and gets more than a few odd looks when they disembark the train together. It's clear that the Weasleys aren't the only one's who hate Draco for his father's actions and thinks Harry should do as well.

*FPS*

"You're really friends with Malfoy then?"

Harry turns his magical eye to look at Tyler as he runs up beside him without taking his normal eye from the steps leading up to the castle.

"Remarkable how you managed to figure that out, Lyle," Draco drawls from Harry's other side.

"Shove it, Malfoy," Tyler replies without malice. "It's an unexpected plot twist. People are shocked."

"Plot twist?" Harry repeats. "That's what my life is, a bloody story?"

"You've certainly got the drama for it."

"Great," Harry grumbles. "Well I'm not being some story book hero, so I hope there's a good cast of back up characters."

*FPS*

"So that's our new Defence teacher," Tyler mutters during the sorting, and Harry looks to see who he's talking about. His gaze settles on a woman in a pink cardigan, with toad-like features and a condescending smile on her face. "Marcus mentioned her. He said Dumbledore couldn't find someone to take the position so the Ministry appointed her, last minute. It's why our book lists were so late."

*FPS*

Hedwig brings him a package at breakfast the next morning and he opens it to find a dozen vials of Draught of Peace with a brief, unsigned note in Snape's handwriting saying that a single mouthful will last an hour.

"That's not your epilepsy potion," Cid remarks, nosily peering across the table. "Something else wrong with you?"

"When is there not?" Harry mutters, pocketing a vial then lifting the box to take the rest back to Slytherin before classes start.

*FPS*

That day he realises for the first time just how bad of an effect the _Daily Prophet's_ claims about his madness have had on people. He'd known there was a wide-spread belief that Voldemort wasn't back, but he hadn't expected to hear people loudly whispering scornful comments about his claims that Voldemort had killed Diggory, or muttering pitying remarks about his mental state. Only the rest of the Slytherins believe Voldemort's return—they have to when several of them are Death Eaters' kids or friends with Death Eaters' kids. Harry half expects to get ostracised by his own house for being Voldemort's sworn enemy, but his friendship with Draco works both ways. He keeps the more anti-Boy Who Lived people from picking fights or making too many unpleasant comments, and Harry stands up for him against anyone looking to blame him for what Lucius did.

*FPS*

"Is it true you're friends with Malfoy?"

Harry turns from the Ancient Runes shelf in the library to look at Hermione and Neville. "Yes," he says slowly.

"Why?" Hermione asks, but her tone is only curious, not accusatory. Neville looks a touch sceptical, but they haven't turned their backs on him and stalked away, so he thinks that's something.

"We made a connection over the summer."

"Aren't you angry at him for what his father did?" Neville asks sceptically, like he can't imagine Harry not being angry about it.

"Children aren't their parents," Harry replies, a touch coldly. "Draco had nothing to do with what Lucius did to James."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes," Harry replies firmly.

"Alright," Hermione says. "Then we won't doubt you."

"But...?"

She smiles grimly. "But if he hurts you then we'll hex him so much even his mother won't recognise him," she warns, and Harry laughs.

*FPS*

He sits with them until dinner. Neville, he's surprised to learn, has a detention that evening because he'd spoken out in their afternoon Defence class, insisting that Voldemort was back when Umbridge claimed it was a lie. Harry's impressed and Neville confesses he surprised himself by doing it, and now he's regretting it because he's sure to get in trouble from his gran.

*FPS*

"Harry, can we ask you..." Hermione begins hesitantly when it's almost dinner time.

"What?"

"At the end of last year Dumbledore told us that Voldemort was back and he was the one who killed Cedric Diggory, but... well, we were just wondering... what exactly happened?"

He looks between them, both his eyes fixed on them. "Do you think I'm crazy?" he asks. "And... be honest. Please."

"No," they both say firmly.

"You're not," Hermione reiterates. "We believe You-Know-Who's back, we do, and I know the _Daily Prophet_ is lying about you being crazy, but we just wondered what really happened that night."

Harry sighs. "I appreciate that you have faith in me—trust me, I really appreciate it—but I'm not quite ready to talk about that yet."

_Ha! Talk about it? You're not even ready to think about it. You can't ignore it forever, you do realise that, don't you?_

*FPS*

James paces, hands flexing restlessly at his sides, glaring at the floor. Sam watches.

"It's not like I didn't deserve it."

"Deserve what?"

"His punishments. I did. He wouldn't have done it if I didn't deserve it."

"Why did you deserve it?"

"I disobeyed him. Or I questioned him, or forgot the Mudbloods and Muggles are filth, or touched his wand."

"Muggleborns," Sam corrects gently.

James' scowl deepens but he doesn't argue with her.

"Did Lucius ever punish you when you didn't do any of those things?"

He glances at her, still pacing, then looks away again. "No."

*FPS*

"It wasn't punishment. It was just lessons."

"Lessons in what?"

"Being a proper wizard. I couldn't sympathise with the Muggles and Mudbloods. I—"

"Muggleborns."

"Fine, the _Muggleborns_. They're still filth. It's what he taught me. Muggle is bad, wizard is good. Wizards who sympathise with Muggles are bad and must be taught the error of their ways, but not killed because magical blood is precious."

He stops pacing, hands going still at his side. "Precious," he murmurs, then doesn't say anything for a long time.

"James?"

He glances up, surprised, then frowns. He throws himself into the chair, draws his legs up and stares at the wall. After ten minutes, Sam decides it's enough for the day and leaves him be.

*FPS*

Harry's first Potions class of the year is on Wednesday and passes unremarkably. He slips into a bathroom beforehand to down a dose of Draught of Peace, which keeps him relaxed enough that his magic doesn't lash out and he can sit through the class without spending the entire time thinking hateful thoughts. It also shuts up the voice in his head, for which he's grateful. The voice has extremely violent ideas on what he can do to Snape and Harry wouldn't be able to concentrate with it muttering spitefully the entire time.

*FPS*

His first Defence class is that day as well. They've all heard about Umbridge's theory only classes so none of them have got their wands out and she smiles at them in a way Harry assumes is meant to be warm and friendly but just comes off as creepy and condescending. Her first words after introducing herself are to Harry.

"Mr Evans, you are not permitted to wear that eye in school."

Harry tries not to glower at her. "The headmaster allows it."

Umbridge's smile turns cold. "It is a spying device that can be used for cheating and inappropriate behaviour. You will remove it. Now."

_Oh, I don't like her._

'That makes two of us.'

*FPS*

"I have to return to my dorm to remove it," Harry says, barely managing to keep his tone borderline respectful. "That's where my non-magical one is, and I need to put it in its proper jar."

"I'm sure it will be just fine in your pocket."

"My eye has to be stored in the correct optical solution to ensure it remains clean. In my pocket it can get dirty. If it gets dirty, it can cause an infection, which can damage the nerves, which can cause anything from a seizure to permanent brain damage. My healer made it perfectly clear that proper eye care is of the utmost importance to my already precarious health; if you don't believe me, you can check with Madam Pomfrey. With all due respect, professor, either permit me to return to my dorm to change it, or I will not remove my eye."

Umbridge stares at him, a vein twitching in her jaw, and Harry knows she's weighing her options. If she lets him keep wearing it then it suggests she approves, but if she makes him change it then he gets to leave the class and it means bending to the whims of a student. Either way, it's a minor win for him.

*FPS*

"You will change it immediately after class," she declares eventually. "You will not be permitted to wear it during school hours from now on. Headmaster Dumbledore has been far too lax in his management of this school; no student should be permitted to be in possession of such an object."

_An object? That's our bodily parts she's talking about. You should channel some of that anger from Snape onto her. Blow up that ugly cardigan. She deserves it._

She stalks back to the front of the classroom and Harry glares at her back, having to restrain himself from literally burning a hole in her back with his gaze.

*FPS*

Harry had thought no class could be more boring than History of Magic, but _Defensive Magical Theory_ is quite possibly the dullest book Harry's ever had the misfortune of reading and within fifteen minutes he's officially decided Umbridge is a worse Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher than Lockhart. Spending an hour forced to sit in utter silence and trying to focus on the book is enough to drive even him into a dull stupor. He's immensely glad that he bought other Defence books in Diagon Alley and has every intention of charming one of them to look like _Defensive Magical Theory_ so he can actually learn something useful in his classes.

*FPS*

He goes to McGonagall that afternoon, telling her what Umbridge had said, and asking if she could really make him stop wearing his magical eye. McGonagall says they need to tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge, that he really doesn't need to use the magical eye—at the very least, certainly not all the time—and mentions that issues such as these are normally taken to a student's Head of House.

"Or to the Deputy Headmistress," Harry says a little coldly. He knows she knows about Snape being his father and he expected her to understand his feelings towards the man. She'd been sympathetic about his hatred of Snape before, after all.

"The Deputy Headmistress has enough to deal with right now."

Harry nods stiffly. "Duly noted, professor. I'm sorry to bother you."

*FPS*

The next time he see's Umbridge, she has an unbearably smug smirk on her face. Harry looks back at her with two green eyes, his expression blank, and let's his magical blue one swivel in the socket, hidden behind a glamour.

*FPS*

The following Monday, the Daily Prophet runs an article declaring Umbridge the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, giving her the power to inspect classes and teachers. No one mistakes it for a good thing. The Slytherins might have the sense not to trash talk Umbridge where they can be heard, but in the safety of their own common room, in pairs and small groups, they mutter and complain about the non-practical classes. The fifth and seventh years are especially unhappy; no one wants to fail their exams.

*FPS*

"There were other times," James mutters.

"Other times?"

"When he... hurt me even if I didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes he was just angry at other things and he took it out on me."

"That's not very fair."

James doesn't say anything for a while, but Sam can tell he's thinking it over and she keeps quiet.

"He said it was his right," he says eventually. "He's my Master so he can do what he likes."

"Do you think Lucius was right?"

"He's always right," he answers dully. "That's why he's Master and I'm not."

*FPS*

The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan discover their morning pumpkin juice spiked with high-strength laxatives and the entire school sees them running out the Great Hall with their hands clapped to the bottoms of their already soiled trousers. No one can prove it, but everyone knows Draco's the one responsible.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

"Don't take offence," Draco drawls, slouching onto the sofa beside Harry one evening, "but you look odd with two green eyes."

Harry looks over from his book. "Do I?"

Draco nods, stretching his legs out towards the fire and throwing his arms along the back of the sofa. Harry feels his hand brush against the back of his head. "I got used to you wearing that crazy blue one. It's weird seeing you without it."

Harry just smiles and shrugs.

*FPS*

He doesn't say anything when the hand that'd landed behind his head starts idly playing with his hair.

*FPS*

"They're talking about us, aren't they?"

"Who?"

Harry nods his head towards the small group off to the far side of the common room who kept glancing their way. Draco looks over, examining the group. Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott are among them, with a couple of sixth and seventh years, and one beady-eyed second year. All of them, Harry knows, have Death Eater connections, either through their parents or extended family.

"Probably," Draco says, looking away. "Does it bother you?"

"I'm getting used to people talking about me. Don't like it, but I'm getting used to it." He watches them with his glamour-hidden magical eye while pretending to read more of his book. "Do they disapprove of you being friends with me?"

Draco raises an eyebrow at him and Harry hurriedly clarifies, "I just mean, y'know, with me being the Boy Who Lived and you..."

"Being son of the Dark Lord's newest favourite Death Eater?"

Harry flushes and fixes his gaze on the book, not answering.

"They think it's a phase. The imprisonment of my father and the knowledge of what he did has left me a confused young man who gravitates towards the child of the man my father wronged in a vain attempt to understand what he did and find peace with my now fatherless existence. In connection, your insanity makes your position as the Boy Who Lived a shade less important in the grand scheme of things and therefore my attraction to you is not quite as socially unacceptable as it might be, albeit the insanity itself is a negative mark against you. However, given time, my attraction to you will surely fade, at which point I will rejoin the ranks of Slytherin's most elite and bring with me some inside information on you."

*FPS*

Harry stares at him. Draco smiles. His fingers are still playing with Harry's hair. "Yes," he says, "they disapprove, but for now they'll do nothing. Regardless, it's none of their concern and I, for one, will not be bothered by the lack of approval from people several rungs below me on the social ladder. My father might be in jail but I'm still the richest and, more importantly, most handsome person in the house."

"Some people might argue with that," Harry says, lips quirking.

_Must we do this again? I'm starting to think you actually fancy the boy._

"Do you?"

Harry shrugs. "Tyler's good looking."

"He's pretty, not handsome."

"Still good looking."

"But not more so than me."

"It's a tough pick."

"It is not. I'm clearly the obvious choice."

Harry just chuckles.

_You don't even deny it! I swear to Merlin, if your little crush interferes with studying and other equally important things I'll sing annoying Christmas songs to keep you awake at nights._

*FPS*

He gets a note from Hermione at breakfast one Saturday a couple of weeks after the start of term, asking him to meet her 'where you learnt to swim'. She doesn't sign it and he frowns at her secretive nature, wondering what she wants. He finishes his breakfast, excuses himself from Tyler and Cid, and heads up to the seventh floor.

*FPS*

He gets there to find the Room of Requirement already materialised into a room lined with bookcases. Almost all the books were focused on defensive magic, and the shelves at the far end held Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and other devices used to warn of approaching enemies. Hermione's sat on a cushion on the floor, face buried in a book, and Neville's peering at the Secrecy Sensors.

*FPS*

"What's this about?" Harry asks, dropping onto a cushion beside Hermione. She puts her book aside and Neville comes over to join them. Harry looks between them, suddenly suspicious. "Why do I think I'm not going to like what you have to say?"

_Oh, look at you being a clever little boy._

"We had an idea," Hermione begins.

"Hermione did, really," Neville says, not in the manner of trying to give credit where it's due, but rather giving Harry the impression Neville wants him to know who's really behind this.

"Oh, alright, _I _had an idea that, well... we're not getting a proper Defence education from Umbridge."

Harry snorts. "You can say that again."

"And I was thinking we need to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"I thought, maybe, we need a better teacher. A proper teacher."

"Good luck with that. Umbridge is Ministry appointed; Fudge himself is making sure she stays."

Neville and Hermione exchange glances.

"You're not talking about a replacement," Harry realises. "You're thinking of secret Defence lessons. From who?"

"Well... you."

*FPS*

_That's a terrible idea_, the voice says, and Harry echoes the sentiment.

"Why?"

"How about the fact that I'm that crazy little Slytherin fourth year who tells lies and speaks to snakes? No one would want to take lessons from me."

"But you're incredible at Defence—you're incredible at everything," Neville says. "That's more important than what house you're from or what the papers say about you."

"You underestimating how much hostility the rest of the school has for me and Slytherin house. And my having power doesn't make me a good teacher. In fact it makes me completely unsuited to being a teacher."

"Why? You know how to do everything we need to learn and we're not getting it from Umbridge, so why not you?"

A butterfly appears, fluttering in the air between the three of them. "That's why. I'm not suited to teaching people when my magic is nothing like anyone else's."

"But you can still do loads of spells," Hermione persists as the butterfly vanishes. "You looked up plenty of jinxes and hexes for the third task, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that's not—you guys don't get it. Look." He grabs the book Hermione had been reading, _Jinxes for the Jinxed_, and holds it out. "Pick a spell from that, one that's got specific wand movements, and tell me the incantation only and whether I should cast it on something, someone, or just randomly."

Hermione glances at Neville, who shrugs, and does as he suggests, flipping the book open to a random page. "_Duro_. Cast it on an object."

Harry draws his wand, turns it on the bookshelf nearest, and repeats the incantation. The bookshelf turns to stone, making Neville jump. Harry's horrified and hurriedly turns it back, grabbing one of the books just to check it hasn't been damaged, but it's fine. Only then does he turn to Hermione and say, "Is that what it's supposed to do?"

She nods.

"But with proper wand movements?"

"An angled up-down flick, and the pronunciation should be harder."

"Right, and watch this." He points his wand at the bookshelf again, moves his wand in a perfect swish-and-flick, and says clearly, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" and the bookshelf turns to stone once more, earning startled noises from his friend.

"This is what I mean," Harry says after turning the bookshelf back to normal. "I can do things with half-arsed spell casting and I can do perfect spells and get different results if I want. I can't teach people to do spells properly when I hardly do them properly myself. If you guys taught it, I'm perfectly willing to help out and back you up, but I can't be the one to do it."

*FPS*

_Good little spell though_, the voice remarks later when he's walking back to Slytherin. _I wonder what would happen if you used it on a living thing. _

"Probably kill them," Harry mutters.

_You say that like it's a bad thing_.

"Of course it's a bad thing."

_Is it? It'd be no great loss if Umbridge died. Nor your daddy, for that matter... no arguments?_

Harry scowls. "I'm not killing anyone."

"Eep!"

He spins and a first year Ravenclaw stares at him, expression fearful.

_Oops_.

"I didn't—" he begins, but they whirl and run off before he can explain. "Great," he mutters, turning and carrying on his way. "Just what I need."

_You shouldn't talk to yourself. People might think you're crazy._

"Shut up," he snarls as it laughs at him.

*FPS*

"My lord?"

Voldemort doesn't move from his seat even to glance at the Assistant. "What do you want?"

"I merely came to offer my assistance."

"With?"

The Assistant steps a little further into the dark living room. "You're clearly troubled, my lord. I simply wished to remind you that I am here for whatever you need."

Voldemort turns his head to let narrowed red eyes settle on the Assistant. "If you are making sexual advances on me, Assistant, I strongly advise you stop before you find yourself on the rack again."

The Assistant smiles. "No, my lord. You've made it _painfully_ clear where you stand on that. But if there is something which the others are proving incapable of, I'm more than willing to... take up the slack, so to speak."

*FPS*

Voldemort considers him for a moment, then says, "Tell me, in your original timeline did my counterpart ever learn the full prophecy?"

"If he did, he certainly never told me."

"Did you ever seek it yourself?"

"I never knew about it. No one ever told me in my original timeline; I only learnt about it after I got stuck in the time loop."

"And you never sought to hear it?"

The Assistant shrugs. "It's not about me anymore."

"You're a liar, Harry Snape."

The Assistant scowls. He's asked not to be addressed by his true name; he doesn't like it, and he doesn't want Pettigrew overhearing. At the Assistant's request, Pettigrew had been memory charmed to forget his identity and the rest of the Death Eaters kept in the dark, so only Voldemort knows.

"The prophecy is not about me, my lord. That is the whole truth."

"Oh, that I know. But you expect me to believe you still never sought to know what it said, in all your years?"

"I tried," the Assistant admits. "But just as Cedric Diggory always dies, I always fail to retrieve the prophecy. I've learnt there's little use questioning Lady Fate's whims, nor fighting them."

"You believe in fate?"

"You don't, even when you put so much stock in a prophecy? One made, I might add, by a less than reputable Seer."

"I have it on good authority that the prophecy is genuine."

The Assistant gives a brief bow. "Then I shan't be the one to question it. Might I be excused?"

"Take twenty-four hours," Voldemort says and the Assistant frowns, confused. "Satisfy your baser urges, Assistant, but return by midnight tomorrow or suffer for it."

The Assistant grins. "Absolutely, my lord. Your grace is _much_ appreciated."

*FPS*

He finds a brothel, after stealing some money from a Muggle bank. He hasn't had sex in so long that he has no inclination to waste time wooing a single woman when he can have three pleasure him for as long as he pays for it.

*FPS*

Defence classes are quickly becoming unbearable. Even with a good book disguised as _Defensive Magical Theory _Harry finds them tedious. The bored sighs and mutters from his classmates are distracting enough that even the voice, normally silent when he's reading, spends entire lessons muttering violent suggestions on how to shut up his classmates or deal with Umbridge.

*FPS*

"I miss Lily."

Sam's surprised at the quiet words, but glad. It's the first time James has mentioned his dead wife in a positive manner since he'd arrived.

"You won't tell him, will you?" he quickly adds.

"Everything you say to me stays between us. I won't tell anyone."

He nods, staring at his knees. "He said she deserved to die because she was Muggleborn, and that I should be glad the Dark Lord freed me from her. But I'm not. I miss her." James picks at a thread on his trousers. "I lied and told him I was glad she was dead."

"It's not wrong to miss her, James. You loved her."

"It's wrong to lie to Master."

"What would Lucius have done if you didn't lie?"

James shrugs, not looking at her. Sam repeats the question.

"Punished me," he admits somewhat reluctantly.

"So you lied to stop Lucius from hurting you. You were protecting yourself."

"I shouldn't have lied."

"If he was here now, would you tell him you miss Lily?"

"No," he says, barely audible.

"Why not?"

"Because. He'd punish me and I don't..."

"You don't what?"

"I don't want him to. I don't like it."

*FPS*

_Must you take that?_

Harry pauses. He's stood in the dungeon's bathroom, about to take the Draught of Peace before Potions. He scans the bathroom with his magical eye, checking he's alone, then says, "You know I have to. Why?"

_It dulls me. I dislike it. I'd really rather you just dealt with your issues._

"Does that include you?" he asks spitefully, then downs a mouthful before it can respond.

*FPS*

Harry still dreams of a long corridor ending in a locked door and every morning he wakes up frustrated, his scar burning. It makes him snappish and his roommates have already learnt not to speak much to him in the mornings anymore. It doesn't help his mood, but he knows it's his own fault that they're doing it, which only makes him feel worse.

*FPS*

He gets a letter from Kirith saying he's booked in for a check up on the last Saturday of September. He goes alone, flooing from the Hospital Wing straight to Saint Mungo's, and Kirith is surprised.

"Where's Professor Snape today?"

"I'm fifteen," Harry says with a scowl. "I don't need babysitting anymore."

"Of course," Kirith says smoothly. "In you come then, lets take a look at your head."

*FPS*

"You've been having quite a lot of focal seizures recently," Kirith notes as she inspects Harry's seizure diary.

"I guess. It's been a stressful few months."

"Hmm, that it has. I'm going to up the dose on your potion though and see if that helps at all, and you should see about trying to reduce your stress levels. Are you still adverse to seeing a psychiatrist?"

"Yes."

"Alright, fair enough, but like I said, try and find some way to reduce your stress. Perhaps try meditating or finding a similar relaxing activity."

"I think meditation makes them happen more."

Kirith frowns and Harry explains how his meditation when trying to become an Animagus had seemed to increase his seizures.

"So you were attempting to become an Animagus," Kirith says with a hint of disapproval. "I did suspect as much after the incident with the Spirit Trance Potion."

"It's not illegal as long as I register," Harry mutters.

"No, but it's difficult magic. Are you still trying?"

Harry shakes his head. "After the potion, I kinda figured it wasn't going to happen so I gave up."

"You might try again in a few years when you're of age, but with regards to meditation: you would have been attempting to reach a Spirit Trance for the Animagus transformation. If you just meditate normally—no magic involved—it shouldn't trigger any more seizures."

Harry nods, then asks, "Do you think—I know it's not really your area—but I still have a lot of magical outbursts. Do you think meditation will help with that?"

"Possibly," Kirith says slowly. "As you said, it's not my area, but magical outbursts are related to stress and emotional trouble, so meditating to relieve those issues will certainly help reduce outbursts."

*FPS*

When he gets back to school it occurs to him that the Draught of Peace would help his stress, but realises he probably shouldn't take it all the time. He does start taking it before his Defence lessons though. The voice is furious, but he doesn't care. It makes the lessons a whole lot less tedious. He can even ignore the little noises from his classmates and focus on his reading, so all in all he thinks it's an excellent idea.

*FPS*

He starts meditating before bed each night, letting his mind clear of thoughts about homework, classes, Voldemort, and anything else that bothers him. He thinks it'll take more than a few nights to really reduce his stress levels, but he notices immediately that it makes falling asleep a lot easier.

*FPS*

Hermione and Neville tell him they intend to go through with secret Defence lessons. They've already contacted a few people with plans to meet in the Hog's Head pub on the first Hogsmeade weekend, on the fifth of October, and Harry's welcome to join them and bring Cid and Tyler, but not Draco, they say, and Harry doesn't argue; they might be friends but Draco has other less pleasant friends and the last thing they need is Umbridge getting word of their little Defence club.

*FPS*

The Assistant enters the living room at Voldemort's beckon and doesn't even get chance to bow before the Dark Lord starts talking.

"How likely is it that Harry Evans is unaware of the prophecy's existence?"

"Extremely," the Assistant answer immediately. "Albus does like to keep his secrets even at the best of times, and their relationship is tenuous at best, from what I've seen. It seems unlikely the old man told Harry about the prophecy."

"I need you to change that."

"I don't understand, my lord."

"Tell Evans of the prophecy. You've helped him before; he will not suspect you if you do so again."

*FPS*

The Hogs Head is dark and dingy, but extremely full when Harry, Cid, Tyler, and Alex arrive.

"I thought you said it'd just be a couple of people," Tyler mutters to Harry.

"Hermione said it would be," Harry mutters back, and the slightly guilty expression on her face tells Harry that she'd been completely aware that it was more than 'a couple of people'. He leaves his friends to join the crowd getting drinks and goes over to where Hermione and Neville are sat with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greets cheerfully.

"I thought we were trying to keep this on the down low," Harry says, dropping into a seat beside her.

"That's why we're here instead of the Three Broomsticks, but the idea was quite popular. Besides," she adds a touch defensively, "we're the one's running it. You didn't want to, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, leaning back in his seat. "I just don't want any of us getting in trouble."

"We'll be fine."

*FPS*

He swivels his magical eye around to look at the other non-student patrons at the pub. Two wizards with thick Yorkshire accents are talking over beers, shooting the students disgruntled looks from under their hoods but otherwise not a bother. A man in dirty grey bandages with a brutalised face underneath is sat at the bar, apparently completely ignorant to the bustle of activity. But the woman sat in the corner, hidden behind a black veil hanging all the way to her toes, isn't a woman at all, but Mundungus Fletcher, who Harry recognises from Grimmauld Place as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. As the rest of the students take chairs around Hermione and Neville, Harry silently Wishes for their voices to sound like only murmurs no matter how hard Mundungus tries to listen.

_So does Dung normally dress up as a woman or is he spying on us for the Order?_ the voice murmurs. _It certainly wouldn't surprise me if he was..._

*FPS*

Once everyone is seated, Hermione stands up from her position next to Neville. "Er, well—hi." She clears her throat, hands twisting nervously in front of her. "So, um, you all know why we're here. Neville and I—"

"Hang on," Ron Weasley interrupts loudly. "What are _they_ doing here?"

Heads swivel. Ron is pointing at Harry, Cid, and Tyler and his distrustful expression is mirrored by several others in the room.

"Saw this coming," Cid mutters. "Fucking Gryffindors."

"We're here for the same reason you are, Weasley," Harry retorts. "Because Umbridge is the worst teacher we've ever had and some of us would actually like to learn how to defend ourselves if we ever come face to face with a Death Eater."

"I thought this was about passing our OWLs," says Michael Corner, a fifth year Ravenclaw.

"It is," Hermione says quickly, "but it's about more than _just_ that. We need to learn how to defend ourselves because... because..." She takes a deep breath and finishes, "Because Lord Voldemort is back."

*FPS*

The expected ripple of shudders, small shrieks, and gasps run through the crowd at that.

*FPS*

"Where's the proof You Know Who's back?" asks Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff fifth year.

"Dumbledore believes it—" Hermione begins, only to be interrupted.

"Dumbledore believes _him,_" Smith says, nodding at Harry. "I think we've got a right to know what makes him think You Know Who's back."

_You ready to think about it yet?_ the voice asks snidely. _They're all looking for an entertaining story about how Diggory died and you got away. Now that I think about it, we should come up with one. Make you out to be the big hero that night. I'm sure we can make up something convincing._

"Look, that's really not what this meeting's supposed to be about," Hermione says, and Harry shakes his head, trying to ignore the voice and wishing he'd taken a dose of Draught of Peace before he came out.

*FPS*

"It's fine," Harry says to Hermione, then to Smith, "Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me. I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"You want to know what it looks like when someone gets murdered?" Harry interrupts angrily. "Is that what you really want? To know what the expression on Diggory's face was, to know how Voldemort looked when he did it, to know how it feels to watch someone _die_? You're a Hufflepuff, you must have known Diggory pretty well. Is your respect for him so low that his death is nothing more than some story you want to hear from the kid everyone calls crazy?"

Several people look guilty at that, looking away when he flicks his gaze over them. Smith says nothing.

"Diggory was a decent guy. He was one of the few non-Slytherins not to treat me like shit last year when I got forced into joining that stupid tournament. I'm not degrading what happened to him by treating it like some bit out of a thriller novel. If that's all you came here for, you can bugger off. If not, shut up and listen to what Hermione's got to say."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

"That went well."

Harry raises his eyebrows at Hermione, who flushes a little.

"Well, it didn't go terribly. They all decided to join," she points out.

"Yeah, well, that's the last time I'm listening to one of your crazy ideas," he says, getting to his feet. Most of the other students have filed out after signing their name to the piece of parchment. Harry's already sent Cid, Tyler, and Alex on their way. "You know if Umbridge finds out, we're properly good and fucked, right? Sirius told me the reason we're having such crappy lessons is because Minister Fudge reckons Dumbledore's trying to create an army to take over the Ministry, so they're making sure we don't know anything good."

"But that's ridiculous. Why would anyone think that?"

Harry can only shrug.

*FPS*

He bumps into someone just as he's leaving and looks up to apologise, but his words catch in his throat when his eyes land on a familiar face topped with blond hair, body cloaked in dark green.

_Well now, there's an unexpected face._

"Hello, Harry," the Assistant greets with a smile. "Join me for a drink?"

*FPS*

"Is that the Assistant?" Hermione asks in a whisper when Harry goes over to tell her and Neville they can leave without him.

"Yeah."

She looks him over, sat at the bar with his back to the room, a shot glass of some clear liquid already in front of him. "What's he doing here?"

"I don't know but it can't be good. He only ever shows up when something bad's happening."

"Do you want us to stay?" Neville asks, clearly suspicious. Harry considers it, but shakes his head.

"I'll be fine. He's helped me before. I'll see you later."

'_He's helped me before'? Are you trying to jinx us?_

*FPS*

"What are you doing here?" Harry asks the Assistant, slipping onto the stool beside him.

"Oh, you know me. I show up at opportune moments with titbits of information that I really shouldn't know but choose to divulge anyway."

"So... you're here to give me another bit of information. Voldemort breaking into the school to steal another priceless magical artefact again?"

The Assistant chuckles. "No, nothing so drastic, although what I have to say is related to him... and you."

"What is it?"

The Assistant downs his shot and signals the barman for another before he speaks. When he does, his voice is quiet. "You ever wondered why Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby?"

Harry's mouth goes dry. The voice is silent and Harry gets the impression it's listening as intently to the Assistant as Harry is. "Yes," Harry says, mouth so dry it comes out as little more than a whisper. He clears his throat. "Of course I have."

"So if I said I had the answer, you'd want to know?"

"Do you?"

The Assistant smiles and downs his second shot.

*FPS*

"Evans. Evans? _Harry!_"

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps, then turns to look at Draco. "Sorry, did you want something?"

"You know we have to be back at the castle in fifteen minutes."

Harry looks back down the road leading out of Hogsmeade and says nothing.

"You thinking of running away again?"

Harry says nothing for so long that Draco thinks he won't answer, but eventually he asks quietly, "If you had the chance to find out something that might change your life forever, would you take it?"

"That would depend."

Harry looks at him. "On what?"

"Whether it'd change my life for the better."

Harry looks at him for a long moment then looks back down the road briefly before turning away. "We should get back to the castle before the prefect gets in trouble for breaking the rules."

"Hey." Draco grabs his arm, stopping him and moving to stand in front of him, mouth turned down as he looks at Harry. "Are you okay?"

Harry can't answer.

*FPS*

_Why are we not going now? The answer to a question you've had for years is finally within reach. We should be in the Ministry retrieving that prophecy, not returning to the castle. I swear to Merlin, if you're passing up a chance to retrieve the prophecy just_ _so you can spend time with Malfoy, you and me are going to have a major falling out._

*FPS*

Harry catches Tyler alone in their dorm the next morning. He's hardly slept but he doesn't feel tired.

"Hey, Tyler, can I ask you about the Department of Mysteries?"

"What about it?" Tyler asks without looking up from his comic.

"Anything really. Do you know what's down there?"

"Nope. Marcus never told me anything about it. Why?"

"I just... I heard the fifth years talking about how they're getting career advice this year and it got me thinking about what I want to do. I just wondered what it's like working in the Department of Mysteries."

"You can always write to Marcus if you want, but he probably won't tell you much. I think the D.O.M. is one of those departments you get shifted to after you've been working in the Ministry for a while. Or like, you get approached by some secret agent person who knows a tonne of stuff about you that no one else does and the next thing you know you're toting around secret magical weapons and living a pretend life." He pauses, face thoughtful. "That'd be pretty cool, actually. I wonder if they do that."

*FPS*

On Monday a notice goes up in the Slytherin common room with a new Educational Degree from Umbridge, declaring that all Student Organizations and groups were being disbanded and could only be reformed with Umbridge's permission.

"Well, I guess that throws a spanner in the whole secret defence group," Tyler mutters as he, Cid, and Harry head out. "Unless you reckon Hermione and Neville are still running it? Harry?"

Harry looks up as though surprised to see him. "Sorry?"

"The Defence group."

"What about it?"

Tyler shakes his head. "Nevermind. I suppose you don't know any more than us."

Cid's frowning and he nudges Harry. "What's up with you? You've been weird and distant all weekend."

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Malfoy?" Tyler suggests with a smirk. "I heard you came back from Hogsmeade with him. You two more than just friends by any chance?"

"No," he says simply without even an scowl or a blush to suggest he's annoyed or lying. Tyler looks at Cid, who shrugs, and they carry on to the Great Hall in silence.

*FPS*

Alex comes over from the Hufflepuff table to tell them that Ginny Weasley had said Hermione and Neville were still going through with the Defence group. Harry barely notices.

*FPS*

He has a seizure in Ancient Runes class that morning, realising only afterwards that he'd forgotten to take his potion that morning. He insists he's fine and carries on with classes, but he has another just as he's leaving the Great Hall at lunch.

*FPS*

_We should just go and get it_, the voice says later when he's lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing_. This stress is clearly bad for you. Just go get it and then we can relax again._

'I don't even know where the Department of Mysteries is.'

_Yes, you do. We were near there this summer. Lucius' trial, remember? Courtroom ten was on the ninth floor, which the announcer in the lift said was also the D.O.M. floor. You might not have been paying attention but I certainly was; there was a door at the end of that corridor, past where we went to get to the courtroom. I'm willing to bet your soul that that's where it is. All we need is a tracking arrow and we'll have that prophecy in a flash._

*FPS*

Snape knows immediately what wakes him late that night. The emerald pendant, which in his sleep has ended up nestled in the hollow of his throat, has gone from almost uncomfortably warm to icy cold in an instant and the shock of it wakes him with a gasp. He throws back the covers, grabbing the robe he'd tossed over the back of his chair earlier and pulling it on as he hurries out of his quarters.

*FPS*

He snarls the password to Dumbledore's office as soon as the gargoyle guarding it is in sight and stalks onto the revolving staircase, taking the steps two at a time instead of waiting for it to take him up. He enters the office without knocking and moves past the desk to the door leading to Dumbledore's quarters, which opens just as he lifts a fist to knock.

"What's happened?" Dumbledore asks, tone serious.

"Harry's gone."

*FPS*

The Ministry is almost completely empty. A security guard comes up to Harry as the telephone box descends into the Atrium, standing in the way to stop Harry stepping out.

"No visitors allowed after five o'clock. What are you doing here anyway, kiddo?"

"Go to sleep," Harry orders, and the man slumps to the floor. Harry steps over him, moving quickly down the hall and past the gauche fountain, through the golden grille and towards the elevators. He feels oddly calm as he waits for one to arrive and the voice is utterly silent as he steps inside, pressing the button for the ninth floor and riding down.

*FPS*

As he steps out of the lift and looks down the empty corridor towards the black door at the end, he realises that it's the same door he's been dreaming about for the past couple of months, the one that had left him so frustrated.

*FPS*

Molly Weasley is there, too. She's hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, but his magical eye picks her up immediately. She's slumped on the floor just down the turning leading to courtroom ten. He turns himself invisible and silently moves forward. He has no idea what she might be doing there, but her presence, and especially her unconsciousness, can't be good. He hesitates. She'd been pleasant to him during his stay at Grimmauld Place and he knows he should probably do something, but if he tries to help her, he'll lose his chance to get the prophecy.

*FPS*

The door opens at a touch of his fingers and he steps through, ignoring the guilty stab in his gut as he leaves Mrs Weasley still unconscious in the hall. Beyond the door is a circular room with a dozen more black doors, interspersed with flickering torches that burn blue. As soon as he shuts the door behind him, the walls spin and all he sees is blue streaks until the walls stop, leaving him with no idea which way he needs to go or even where he came from. He can't see through any of the doors.

He reaches into his pocket and removes the tracking arrow he'd made. It reads _Prophecy about Harry Potter_ and he's included a distance marker, but when he orders it to direct him, it spins wildly in his hand and the numbers refuse to settle, the digits changing rapidly.

_It looks like we're doing this the old fashioned way. Ready for a bit of footwork?_

He shoves the arrow back in his pocket, looks around, and picks a door at random. He opens it and finds himself looking back into the corridor.

_Wait!_ the voice cries as he goes to shut it. _Mark it so we know which one we've tried._

He conjures a piece of chalk and draws a large X on the door then closes it.

*FPS*

He realises five minutes later, when he's lying on the floor feeling weak and sleepy and with vomit in his mouth, that the flash of the blue torches when the room spins acts similarly to strobe lights and that it might have been a good idea to close his eyes. He doesn't move for a few moments and wonders if maybe he should give up and go back to Hogwarts, but the voice screams at him so loudly he flinches.

_We've come too close to give up now. Pick yourself up, you pathetic child, and carry on. We can rest when we've got the prophecy._

*FPS*

The next door he opens leads into long rectangular room, empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep-green water, big enough for six people to swim in, which contains a number of pearly white objects that drift around lazily in the liquid. When he moves closer, he realises the objects are brains.

_Curious. What on earth are they doing with brains?_

Harry has no idea, nor does he care. He moves on to one of the other doors in the room, opening it and finding himself in a small office. He backs out, goes to another, but that opens into an office as well. He checks all the doors, and only two lead to other places—the door he came through, and another which leads into a large rectangular room with a sunken pit twenty feet below the door. Levelled stone benches lead down to a raised dais at the bottom, upon which stands an archway, ancient and crumbling, but holding a thin black veil that flutters slightly in an unfelt wind.

*FPS*

He scans the room with his magical eye but there's no one else there. He moves slowly down the benches to the dais, approaching it cautiously. He can swear he hears voices coming from the archway.

"Is it in there?"

_I don't know,_ the voice murmurs. _But what does it say for your sanity that the voice in your head is hearing voices?_

"I hear them too. Do you think..." he moves around the archway, looking at it from all sides. "Do you think there's people in there?"

_If there are, we ought to avoid it._

"Yeah," Harry agrees, but he doesn't move.

*FPS*

A burst of flames make both Padfoot and Moony leap up, hackles rising, a growl in their throats as they turn towards the source, then a haunting cry sounds through the room and both canines tremble, whining softly as their surprise eases. Moony flattens himself to the floor, head on his paws, tail tucked against him, but Padfoot takes a few steps away and transforms into Sirius, staring at the phoenix perched on the headboard of the bed.

"Fawkes?"

He gives another trill and drops an emerald pendant and a small scroll of parchment onto the pillows. Sirius picks them up, hastily unrolling the scroll, his face turning pale as he reads the message inside.

"I'll find him," he says to Fawkes, who vanishes in another burst of fire. Moony barks, watching Sirius hurry to the dresser and pull out James' Invisibility Cloak. "It's Harry, he's left the school. They think he might have gone to the Ministry."

Moony whines. Sirius bundles the cloak up, pulls the emerald pendant over his head, then goes over and quickly scratches the wolf behind the ears. "I'll find him, Moony."

*FPS*

Lupin uses the Wolfsbane Potion even when Harry isn't there. It's more effective if used every full moon instead of just occasionally.

*FPS*

_Come on,_ the voice says._ We need to find the prophecy._

He tears his gaze away from the veil and keeps even his magical eye off it as he turns and climbs back up the stone dais towards a door opposite the one he'd come in.

*FPS*

_This is it!_

The voice is right. The Assistant had said the prophecies came in the form of glass orbs and he now finds himself in a tall, cathedral-like room filled with shelves holding thousands of them.

_Row ninety-seven, he said. Come on, get moving, we're so close_.

He checks the number on the end of the row nearest to him—46—checks the ones on either side then starts running along, counting them as he passes, slowing only as he reaches the nineties.

*FPS*

When he finds 97, his prophecy is a third of the way down, a dusty glass ball with a yellowish label beneath it that reads:

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_and (?) Harry Potter_

He picks it up. It's not cold like he expects, but pleasantly warm in his grip. He's holds it in both hands as he turns away, but a voice in the darkness makes him look up.

"I'm going to need that now."

*FPS*

The Assistant steps out of the shadows. He's not smiling and Harry steps back, clutching the prophecy tighter.

"What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are. I need the prophecy, and drop the invisibility. I've told you before it's rude to talk to people like that."

Harry doesn't "For what? It's not about you. It's mine."

"My reasons are my own. Hand it over, Harry. That's all I'm asking."

"You're working for him." His magical eye swivels, focusing on the Assistant's left arm, but he can't see through the Assistant's cloak. "You're a Death Eater, aren't you?"

"I'm just here for the prophecy, Harry."

He holds out his hand and the prophecy leaps from Harry's hands and floats across the space between them, slipping away from Harry's fingers when he tries to grab it.

"No!"

_Get in our trunk!_ the voice yells, and the prophecy vanishes just before it drops into the Assistant's hand.

*FPS*

The Assistant stares at his hand the lifts his gaze to where Harry stands. "Where the fuck did it go? What have you done with it, Harry? Show yourself!"

"Fuck you. I trusted you. I thought you were a good guy."

"I am a good guy. I saved your life, didn't I?"

"And now you're working for the man who wants to kill me!"

Instead of responding the Assistant flicks his hand and Harry cries out as he suddenly lifts into the air, his arms forced out on either side like he's been tied to an invisible cross. The Assistant stalks forward, rifling through Harry's pockets then patting his hands along his sides, front, and back. When he doesn't find the prophecy he lifts his hand and presses it to Harry's head, and Harry feels a presence inside his mind, like a snake slithering through his thoughts. He drops his invisibility, and only afterwards wonders why, and the image of his trunk at Hogwarts rises unbidden to the front of his mind before the voice snarls _Get out!_ and the presence vanishes. The Assistant takes his hand away and steps back, looking at Harry curiously.

*FPS*

Sirius is just entering the Ministry, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, when the pendant turns hot. He steps over the still sleeping security guard with an insincerely muttered apology and races towards the lifts.

*FPS*

_Move it. He won't ask again. Move it. Now,_ the voice orders and Harry obeys.

*FPS*

"That is interesting," the Assistant murmurs. "And impressive. You do realise that the amount of protections on this room should make it impossible for anyone to remove something from it by magic? Even I'd have some trouble with it and I'm a magical genius."

"I do the impossible a lot," Harry replies. "You're not getting that prophecy."

"We'll see," the Assistant replies. "But just... let me look at you a minute."

He closes his eyes and Harry frowns, confused, but then the Assistant opens his eyes and instead of blue, they're the same bright green as Harry's real one and glowing unnaturally, giving off a light all of their own. Harry's own eyes go wide at the sight, and the Assistant's mouth drops open slightly.

"Oh _wow_. Look at you!" He laughs delightedly, eery eyes staring at Harry's chest. "Good Merlin, you're the bloody Amazon river. That's incredible. Hey, tell me what you asked for when you made your deal with Crowley."

Harry's blood runs cold. "How do you know—"

_He's you!_

"You know me," the Assistant says, guessing what Harry had been about to ask and unaware of Harry's sudden realisation. "I know lots of things I shouldn't. Come on, tell me exactly what you said and I'll—"

"You're me," Harry says, and makes a Wish. He drops to the floor, staggering a little as he lands, then straightens up as the Assistant snaps his mouth shut.

*FPS*

"Smart boy," he says quietly and Harry's jaw drops. He'd only been echoing the voice, trying to distract the Assistant. "I'm going to have to make you forget that for the moment, though."

"Wait, you're actually—"

_Knock him out and run, you idiot!_ the voice yells at him, but the Assistant waves his hand and pressure wraps around Harry's chest and when he tries to make a Wish, nothing happens. He darts forward, attempting to run past the man, but the Assistant grabs him, one arm wrapping around his torso, the other hand pressing to his head.

"Sorry about this, Harry, but I've got secrets to keep."

The snake like presence slithers into his head again. Harry struggles, trying to squirm out of the Assistant's grip and shaking his head violently. It feels like there's a fight happening inside his mind, the snake darting around while bursts of lightning lash down at it, but the snake is surprisingly capable of avoiding them, and then the image of the prophecy floats unbidden to the forefront of his mind, tucked under his pillow at home.

_No!_ the voice yells. _You're not having it!_

"Sneaky bastard," the Assistant mutters. "Now forget about me."

The snake in Harry's head flings itself forwards, jaws opening wide, and lightning crashes all through Harry's mind. It's the last thing Harry's aware of before falling into a seizure.

*FPS*

"Bollocks," the Assistant swears, letting go of the seizing boy and levitating him to hover in mid-air so as not to thrash on the ground and hurt himself. "Didn't mean to do that."

He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again they're blue once more and no longer glowing, and he shakes his head slightly. Manipulating his vision to be able to see magic was incredibly difficult and slightly disorientating, as it painted everything in vibrant colours, but it did let him know things about magic that he couldn't otherwise figure out, such as the fact that Harry had more magic flowing through him than anyone the Assistant had ever met, making his magic fundamentally different to the Assistant's. He likes that; it's not often the Assistant finds himself learning something new and he'd never considered that his counterparts might use magic differently than he did. Where Harry had huge amounts of power flowing through him, the Assistant had only an average amount; what made the Assistant formidable in his own right was his ability to manipulate that magic in ways no one else could.

Harry's still seizing and the Assistant frowns worriedly. When five minute pass and it hasn't stopped, he swears and digs in his pockets for something to turn into a portkey.

*FPS*

"Molly?"

Sirius gets no response to his call as he steps off the lifts. His wand is in hand and he lifts it, muttering, "_Homenum revelio_."

A white glow shines from the side corridor and he moves forward cautiously. "Molly?"

His foot hits something. He bends, feeling with one hand, grabs the Invisibility Cloak and pulls it off. Mrs Weasley is still slumped on the floor, completely unconscious. He pulls down the hood of his own cloak.

"_Rennervate!_"

*FPS*

Mrs Weasley gives a small cry of shock when she sees his floating head and he shushes her, glancing around nervously.

"You hurt?"

Mrs Weasley shakes her head and takes the hand he offers, letting him help her to her feet. "Someone must have snuck up on me. Is that why you're here?"

"Harry left the school. He's here. It possible he's the one that attacked you."

"No! But why would he be here? I thought he didn't know about the prophecy."

"I don't—" he breaks off, feeling the pendant abruptly turn cooler. "He's gone."

"What?"

"Harry, he's—look, are you alright? I have to go."

"Yes, I'm fine, but I don't under-"

"I'll explain later!" Sirius calls, running for the lift.


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N:** I'm going on holiday for a week on Monday. As such, I'll be double posting today, and double posting on Sunday, which should make up for a week of missed updates.

**Chapter 42**

"Headmaster!"

Dumbledore looks up at the portrait of Dilys Derwent, who was headmistress in the eighteenth century but a notable healer before that, giving her a portrait in both the headmaster's office and in Saint Mungo's hospital.

"The Evans boy is at the hospital, came right into the main reception area, by portkey looks like. He's seizing bad."

"He was alone?"

"Yes."

*FPS*

Sirius follows the tracking charm on the pendant halfway across London until it brings him to a derelict store front, feeling almost uncomfortably warm as it rests in his palm. He glances up and down the street, takes off the Invisibility Cloak and pulls the pendant over his head, tucking it into the front of his robes before stepping through the window of the shop like it doesn't even exist, feeling only a sensation like passing through water and then finding himself in the main reception of Saint Mungo's hospital.

*FPS*

Snape's pacing his office when a burst of fire appears over his desk then vanishes again, leaving only a feather and a slip of parchment. He snatches it up, reading the three words written on it, then slumping into his chair, trembling as he buries his face in his hands.

_Harry is safe._

*FPS*

The Assistant creeps into the Marauders' home, Apparating straight into Harry's bedroom and going to his bed, lifting the pillow and frowning when he finds no prophecy underneath. He tosses the covers, but there's no sign of the prophecy anywhere in the bed.

"You son of bitch, you moved it again," he mutters, and starts to go through the rest of the room. He's just rifling through the desk when he hears a barking from down the hall. He freezes, listening carefully for footsteps to follow, but instead hears only the scratching of claws against a door and whining, then more barks. He turns away from the desk, going to the chest of drawers, and as he does glances out the window and notices the full moon hanging in the sky.

"Oh, shit," he whispers, looking back at the door. "Damnit, Remus, you had to stay in the house?"

He hesitates, thinking of leaving, but decides to carry on. He's not got much left to check and it sounds like Lupin's locked up anyway, but a few minutes later he's forced to admit that the prophecy isn't in the room.

*FPS*

On a hunch he heads to Hogwarts instead, sneaking into the Slytherin fourth year boys' dorm silent and invisible, moving straight to Harry's bed and crouching in front of the trunk. It's locked but it doesn't take long for him to get it to spring open. He searches through it, panic bubbling in his chest when he doesn't find the prophecy. He looks around at the sound of muttering from one of the other beds but it's just Cid sleep talking. The Assistant looks through the trunk again but the prophecy definitely isn't there. He shuts it, moving to check through the bedside cabinet and humming with satisfaction when he finds the little cupboard on it locked and charmed. It doesn't take him long to break the spells on it and he smiles when he finds the prophecy sat inside.

*FPS*

He goes to the cave in the mountainside over Hogsmeade, looks at the prophecy, and then tosses it to the ground, Disapparating before it even smashes and never seeing the ghostly figure rise from the remains and speak the prophecy.

He reappears at Saint Mungo's and sneaks his way into the room where Harry has been moved. Sirius is sat in a chair by his bed and the Assistant casts a Sleeping Spell on him before slipping into the room, moving to the bed and laying a hand on Harry's head, closing his eyes and rifling through his memories. He hadn't been sure whether he'd managed to properly erase the memories of his identity before Harry seized, but Harry has no memories after the Assistant had lifted him off the floor and first used Legilimency to find the prophecy. Satisfied, the Assistant slips out again.

*FPS*

Harry knows where he is as soon as he opens his eyes. He's become familiar with the white walls and tiled ceilings of Saint Mungo's hospital rooms, brightly lit in the morning sunlight, and his initial confusion is only to wonder why he's there, then he remembers breaking into the Department of Mysteries and being confronted by the Assistant, and he sits up.

"Whoa!"

Sirius jumps out of the chair beside the bed, hands going to Harry's shoulders and pushing him back down. "Hey, you're alright, you're okay."

"The proph- I have to—the Assistant, he's a Death Eater!"

"Calm down, kid. You had a bad seizure, you need to relax."

*FPS*

"How did I get here?"

Sirius perches on the edge of the bed, brushing hair away from Harry's face. "Portkey. You want to tell me what you were doing in the Ministry of Magic when you should have been at Hogwarts?"

"Am I in big trouble?"

"Yeah, kid, you are. Why were you there?"

"There's a prophecy," Harry says reluctantly, "about me and Voldemort. It's why he tried to kill me as a baby."

"Is that what the Assistant told you on Saturday?"

"I suppose Mundungus Fletcher told you about him?"

Sirius nods.

"Was he spying on me?"

"There's a powerful evil wizard out to kill you; you thought we wouldn't be keeping an eye on you?"

*FPS*

"So you decided you'd just waltz into the Ministry and steal a prophecy, which you heard about from a Death Eater no less?"

"I didn't know he was a Death Eater before."

"You knew he was untrustworthy and unreliable. What made you think he'd tell the truth?"

"He's never lied to me before. He's helped me, a lot. He saved my life in the graveyard in June. Besides," he adds defensively, "it was true. There is a prophecy and you know it about, don't you? That's why Mrs Weasley was there, isn't it?"

"You shouldn't have attacked her."

"I didn't attack her!" he cries, sitting up again. "She was already knocked out when I got there!"

"So you just left her? You didn't think to help?"

Harry flushes, looking down at his hands.

*FPS*

"Tell me what happened in the Ministry."

Harry does, saying how he'd searched for the prophecies, eventually found them and the one about him, only to get ambushed by the Assistant, how he'd Wished it away, and that had been the last thing he remembers before the seizure.

"You Wished the prophecy out of the hall?"

"I didn't want him to get it."

Sirius shakes his head, mouth curled into an incredulous smile. "You never cease to amaze me, kid. Do you know what kind of protections there are on that place to stop people magically removing things? And you just... where did you send it?"

"My trunk, at school."

Sirius stares for a moment, then nods. "Yeah, sure, of course. I mean, if you can get it out of the Department of Mysteries, you can get it into Hogwarts too." He shakes his head again. "Merlin, kid, you're scary sometimes. Get some rest. We'll talk more later."

*FPS*

The Assistant lies on the floor of the Riddle House sitting room, throat raw from screaming, body still trembling from the Cruciatus.

"Smashed," Voldemort's cold voice says. "A man of your power and age and you could not keep a single prophecy from being smashed by a teenager."

"My lord, I tried," the Assistant replies raspily. "His magic... it's different to mine. I hadn't realised. I did tell you I've never managed to obtain the prophecy."

"I do not care for your excuses. You have failed me, Harry. Or," he says slowly, "perhaps you just didn't want me to have it, that your sympathy for the boy is greater than your loyalty to me."

"No! My lord, I am yours. I—"

"_Crucio!_"

*FPS*

Harry jerks awake with a scream, hands flying to his forehead as his scar burns and he imagines he can feel the Cruciatus stinging at his skin. Hands touch his arms and he flinches then looks between them to see Lupin bent over him, his tired face creased with worry.

"Harry, calm down, it's okay, it was just a nightmare."

"I saw him. The Assistant. And Voldemort. I saw—it's like I was him."

"You saw them?" Lupin asks, covering Harry's hands with his own and gently pulling them away from his head. "Doing what?"

"I was—Voldemort was torturing him for failing. He thinks the prophecy's been smashed."

*FPS*

"Harry, there's something you need to know," Lupin tells him. "Someone broke into our house last night and they went through your bedroom."

"My room? Why? Was it a thief?"

"Perhaps, but as far as I can tell, nothing was taken and they didn't go anywhere else in the house. Given what you told Sirius about last night, it's possible it was the Assistant searching for the prophecy."

*FPS*

Sirius comes back a little after lunch, apparently having gone to contact Dumbledore and a couple of other Order members who'd been looking for Harry, and tells him that he's to see Dumbledore as soon as he gets back to Hogwarts.

*FPS*

"There's one other thing," Sirius says, taking a badly wrapped package about the size of a paperback book from his pocket. "I want you to have this. Found it when I was going through my stuff the other day."

"What is it?"

Sirius gestures and Harry opens it. There's a small mirror inside, square, dirty, and old. Lupin, still in the chair beside the bed, leans forward. "Is that...?"

Harry glances at him then at Sirius, who explains, "It's a two-way mirror. I have the other one. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions, but I want you to use it to contact me if you ever need, alright? For anything. Post going in and out the school is being monitored, so this is a touch safer and more immediate."

"Alright," Harry says, a little surprised. Sirius leans closer tucking a finger under Harry's chin and catching his gaze firmly.

"I mean it, kid. You need anything, you call me, okay? No more of this running off on your own thing. I'm your godfather and I'm here for you."

Harry nods, not quite trusting himself to speak past the guilt and gratitude suddenly threatening to overwhelm him.

*FPS*

They let him floo back home and check his room before returning to Hogwarts, but there's nothing missing. He gives Kiwi a hug and remakes the bed, carefully placing her against the pillows again before leaving.

*FPS*

He floos straight into Dumbledore's office, where he's told to take a seat and given a cup of tea. He sips at it as Dumbledore stands over one of his many strange silver contraptions, which is giving off puffs of purple smoke, and as he does Harry feels a now familiar calm settle over him, the same sensation he gets before every Potions and Defence class.

"You spiked my tea with Draught of Peace," he says, lowering the cup.

"I did," Dumbledore says without guilt or shame, turning away from his contraption and moving to sit behind his desk. He doesn't meet Harry's gaze, staring instead at a point somewhere past his left ear. "Our conversation will likely ire you and I wished to avoid too much unnecessary damage."

"You could have just given it to me straight," Harry tells him, aware that he should be annoyed but isn't.

*FPS*

"Harry, I must apologise to you," Dumbledore says. He's still not looking at him.

"For what?"

"For not telling you what I should have three years ago."

Harry frowns. "I don't understand."

"Do you recall, after you fought Professor Quirrell, that you asked me why Voldemort attacked you as a baby?"

"You refused to tell me," Harry says, and if it weren't for the Draught of Peace he might sound bitter. "But it doesn't really matter now, does it? It's the prophecy."

"It is, but had I told you then, you would not have been lured into the Ministry last night."

"So let me get this straight: you're apologising for what I did?"

"I am apologising for keeping things from you and expecting that you would not seek out those things when an alternative source offered them. You see, myself and the rest of the Order already knew that the Assistant was a Death Eater."

*FPS*

Harry takes a large gulp of his tea, feeling the Draught of Peace in it push back the anger that'd sparked at Dumbledore's words. "Why did no one tell me? Why didn't Mundungus..." he trails off, remembering that he'd been fooling Mundugus on Saturday, Wishing for him not to pay attention.

"The Assistant has shown himself to be... fond of you. I had hoped that, if he approached you again, he might reveal information to you, as he has before, that he wouldn't if you knew he was a Death Eater."

"And then you expected me to tell you all about it, is that right?"

"Not to me specifically, but yes, I had hoped you would inform Sirius. I underestimated your distrust of adults and that is something else for which I accept a substantial amount of blame."

"Is that why you won't look at me?"

Dumbledore sighs and his gaze drops to his fingers, which are linked and resting on his lap. "I beg you to forgive me my rudeness, Harry, but that is connected to another thing that I kept from you."

"Seems like you've been keeping a lot of things from me. And you wonder why I don't trust people."

"Then let me begin to rectify that."

*FPS*

"Fourteen years ago," Dumbledore begins, "when Voldemort failed to kill you, I suspected that a connection had been forged between you through the scar on your forehead."

"Yeah, you told me that in May after I dreamt about him. I had another one today," he adds, as Lupin had told him to tell Dumbledore about it, "this morning when I was sleeping."

"In which you saw Voldemort?"

"Not... not exactly. It's more like I was Voldemort. He was torturing the Assistant for not getting the prophecy, but... he thought it was smashed. Voldemort, I mean. He was really angry because he thought the Assistant hadn't stopped me from smashing it and then he accused him of being disloyal. And he called him Harry. I guess that's his real name. "

Surprise flickers across Dumbledore's face and something Harry can't quite put a name to flashes in his eyes.

"Thank you," Dumbledore says quietly. "That is useful information."

*FPS*

"To return to our initial conversation, this connection between you and Voldemort, whilst for now an annoyance to you, I imagine, could become dangerous if Voldemort ever realises it exists. If he does—"

"He could use it against me," Harry realises. "He could see me like I see him."

Dumbledore nods sadly. "More over, he could force his way into your mind and use it to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts. It is for this reason that I will not maintain eye contact. I have no wish to give Voldemort more incentives to attempt to penetrate your mind."

"I don't understand."

"If Voldemort suspects that our relationship is anything more than that of teacher and pupil, then he would seize the chance to possess you and use you against me."

"Well there's nothing to worry about there. It isn't more than teacher and pupil," Harry points out, a bite to his voice that hints at the hatred he might express if not for the Draught of Peace.

"Except there is," Dumbledore says softly. "You thoroughly dislike and distrust me—something which you and Voldemort have in common. As you well know, your magic is dangerous when you are angry. How much more dangerous do you think it would be if the damage you cause were directed at the source of your anger?"

*FPS*

"Is there a way to break it, this connection?"

"No. However," Dumbledore adds, "there is a way to block it. Have you ever heard of Occlumency?"

"It sounds vaguely familiar. I might have come across the term before."

"It is a branch of magic concerned with defending the mind from external penetration. I have already arranged for you to receive tutelage in it from Professor Snape. I fully expect you will have as much ease learning it as you do with almost everything else."

Harry scowls. "I want to learn from someone else. Or just give me a book about it."

"Occlumency is a magic best learned in practice, and I am afraid that Professor Snape is the only option. Occlumency and Legilimency—the art of penetrating the mind—are obscure branches of magic; very few people know it. Professor Snape is a skilled in both and given the nature of this magic and his knowledge of your health issues, he is the ideal person to teach you."

Harry can't really argue with that, but he thinks he'll be less accepting about it when the Draught of Peace wears off.

*FPS*

"Are you going to tell me the prophecy now?"

"Certainly, if you'll return it."

Harry holds out his hand and Wishes the prophecy from his trunk. When it doesn't appear, he frowns and tries again, but still nothing happens. "That's weird."

"Do you need to go down to Slytherin?" Dumbledore asks lightly, his gaze on Harry's empty hand.

"I shouldn't. I Wished it into my trunk, I should be able to Wish it out."

"You classmates will all be in lessons; you can, ah... Wish... your trunk into my office to look through it."

Harry gets up, pushing his chair back and doing as suggested. His frown deepens when it appears without trouble. He bends, pressing a hand to it and hearing the lock click then lifting the lid.

"Someone's been in here."

Dumbledore stands, coming around the desk and looking into the trunk. "You're sure?"

Harry nods. "I keep it tidy," he says, digging through the mess. "But I should be the only one who can get into it."

"I fear you bedroom at home was not the only place the Assistant visited last night."

"It's not here. The prophecy. It's gone." He looks up at Dumbledore and for a brief moment their eyes meet. Despite the Draught of Peace, Harry feels a sudden and intense rush of hatred for the man, and one of the many objects on Dumbledore's rickety tables explodes. Harry jumps and Fawkes, perched on his stand by the desk, gives a startled squawk.

"Sorry!"

"Not to worry," Dumbledore says calmly. "I have quite enough possessions that I can survive losing one or two."

*FPS*

Harry looks back at his trunk, closing the lid and getting to his feet, sending it back to Slytherin but keeping his eyes fixed on the spot where it'd sat.

"If the Assistant stole the prophecy, why did he tell Voldemort I smashed it? Do you think he's not really loyal?"

"I think the Assistant is a mystery that will not be easily unravelled."

*FPS*

"You're still going to tell me the prophecy though, right?" Harry says. "You do know it, don't you?"

"I do and I shall tell you. Please take a seat again."

Harry does, watching Dumbledore go to a black cabinet beside Fawkes' stand and take from it a shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges and filled with a silvery substance that seems to be both liquid and gas. Dumbledore brings it to the desk, setting it down and taking his seat.

"What's that?" Harry asks.

"This is a Pensieve. It is a device used to store thoughts and memories, allowing one to examine them at leisure from an outside perspective. I use it when, and I'm sure you're familiar with the sensation, I find I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."

Harry can't say he's ever felt that way, but he wonders if the voice counts as something he could remove and place in the Pensieve.

On the tail of that thought comes the realisation that he hasn't heard the voice since waking up in the hospital. The Draught of Peace would explain it's silence in the office, but not why it had said nothing in the hospital when normally it would have plenty to say.

*FPS*

Dumbledore lifts his wand and presses the tip to his temple for a moment then drawing it away, bringing with it a long silver strand that Harry at first thinks is hair, but then he realises it's the same silvery stuff that's in the Pensieve. He lets it fall into the basin, watches it swirl for a moment, then sighs and prods the contents with his wand. Harry watches as a figure rises out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolves slowly, her feet in the basin. Harry thinks she looks vaguely familiar. When she speaks, it's in harsh, hoarse tones that Harry doesn't expect from her.

*FPS*

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

*FPS*

For several long minutes after the figure stops speaking, the office is filled with absolute silence. Harry stares at the Pensieve, repeating in his head what he'd just heard, going over it, figuring it out and then lifting his gaze to Dumbledore, whose eyes remain fixed on the stone basin.

"I have to kill him."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

"I have to kill him."

Dumbledore's expression is one unlike Harry's ever seen on him before—sad, apologetic, regretful.

"Yes," he says quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? This is... of all the things to keep from me, _this_..."

"You would have me tell an eleven year old boy that he was destined to one day defeat the darkest wizard to walk the earth?"

Put like that, Harry can see his point, but he still persists. "If I'd known, I could have done it in the graveyard. I could have Wished him dead."

"Could you?" Dumbledore asks lightly, but Harry detects a hint of something else. "Could you so easily have brought about the death of another human being?"

"He tried to kill me. He would have that night if the Assistant hadn't arrived. He killed my mother. I have every right to kill him."

"No one would say otherwise, but the act of willingly and knowingly taking life from another is not so simple as one might think, and Voldemort has gone to great and incredibly dark lengths to try and make himself immortal. He has done things to himself that even your unique brand of magic may not be able to overcome."

"So what, I'm supposed to sit back and let him kill me instead?"

Something approximating a smile comes onto Dumbledore's face for the first time that afternoon. "You forget, Harry, that the Order of the Phoenix exists for the sole purpose of fighting Voldemort and his people. No one can cheat death forever and I fully believe that a time will come when Voldemort will be defeated once and for all."

*FPS*

"Until that day," Dumbledore continues, "you have plenty of other worries with which to concern yourself. For now, you should focus on your schooling."

"Hardly seems important now. I've got a dark wizard to kill; what do my grades matter to that?"

"The pursuit of knowledge should never be underestimated, Harry. The correct knowledge is what will allow us to overcome Voldemort."

That may be, but Harry doubts that knowledge is something he'll learn in a Hogwarts class, especially not with teachers like Dolores Umbridge.

"I also believe there is the matter of your punishment to discuss. Whatever your intentions, you did leave the school without permission and break into a secure government facility."

Harry doesn't say that it hadn't seemed all that secure to him.

"You will serve detention with Professor Snape every Saturday morning for the rest of the term and your Hogsmeade privileges will be revoked for the rest of the year. I'm sure you understand that no one, least of all Professor Umbridge, can be made aware of exactly what you did last night, so the story I have concocted to explain your absence is that you snuck into Hogsmeade last night and after suffering a severe seizure whilst there, you were rushed to Saint Mungo's."

Harry nods. It's a fair punishment.

*FPS*

"One more thing, Mr Evans," Dumbledore says, and Harry takes the use of his surname as a sign he should pay close attention, "I strongly advise you obey all school rules from now on. There are some people who wanted you expelled for last night's events and I cannot guarantee that you would not be if there is any further rule breaking on your part, including wearing that magical eye you currently have in."

"Yes, sir," Harry replies. He doesn't need anyone to tell him "some people" means Umbridge, and as he leaves the office and descends the revolving staircase, he pulls up his usual glamour to make his blue eye look green.

*FPS*

Classes are letting out just as he leaves Dumbledore's office and he joins the crowd, heading down through the castle towards Slytherin.

*FPS*

"Harry! Hey, wait up!"

He pauses, turning with a smile as Neville jogs up to him. "Hey, Neville."

"Hey. You alright? Heard you got rushed to Saint Mungo's last night."

"Yeah, I'm fine though. Spend half my life in that hospital, it seems."

"It true you tried to sneak into Hogsmeade as well? Why?" he asks when Harry nods. "We were just there on Saturday."

Harry shrugs. "I was feeling rebellious."

"Maybe you are as mad as they say," Neville teases, then glances around before leaning closer. "You know we're still doing... the thing, what we talked about on Saturday?"

"Yeah, I know. Tomorrow, right? Eight o'clock?"

Neville nods, straightening up and glances around nervously again. "I'm heading to the library to meet Hermione; she had Arithmancy class. You want to come?"

"No, I need to get back to Slytherin. I'll see you guys tomorrow at the thing."

*FPS*

He realises that attending a forbidden meeting to practice magic the Ministry doesn't want them learning explicitly goes against what Dumbledore had just told him not to do, but he's not going to pass it up. Besides, he's not the only one who'll be breaking the rules, so it's not quite as bad as it could be.

*FPS*

"The fuck did you try sneaking to Hogsmeade for?" Cid asks when Harry gets back to Slytherin. "We were there on Saturday."

"Felt rebellious."

"Clearly," Tyler drawls. "So how far did you get before they caught you?"

"Into the village. They only got me because I seized, got rushed to Saint Mungo's. They never would have known otherwise."

"Next time you should take that Invisibility Cloak of yours," he says, grinning as Harry raises his eyebrows.

"Next time?"

"Yeah, and you're taking us with you," Cid adds. "Shitty thing to leave your friends behind and it's much more fun getting drunk with others than alone."

"Like you know," Tyler scoffs.

"Excuse you, I've been drunk before."

"When?"

"In the summer. Mother hosts big parties for all her rich, fancy friends. I nicked some booze and got trashed."

"Bet you're a lightweight. Probably passed out after one beer."

"I did not. You probably would."

Tyler shrugs. "I wouldn't drink. See, if I was at a fancy party I'd be getting laid while you're off drinking yourself into a sad, lonely stupor with only your hand for company."

"Fuck off," Cid retorts, shoving him. "Nothing impressive about being a whore."

"Whores have sex for money; I do it for fun, and you're just jealous you still haven't managed to bang Tabitha yet. Or anyone else."

*FPS*

"You haven't actually fucked anyone yet," Cid says, but he sounds doubtful, the teasing tone slipping away.

"I have."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"With who?"

"Charlie, my Muggle friend back home."

Cid scoffs. "Yeah, right. You're just saying that because we can't check with him."

"Her," Harry corrects, staring at Tyler. "Are you serious? But I thought she was all homophobic and stuff so you guys weren't friends."

"One of her older friends from school gave her some shit about the homophobia and made her see sense, so she's come around."

"And you really...?"

"Yeah, this summer."

"I still don't believe you," Cid says. Tyler shrugs.

"It's true. We did it in her tree house while her parents were out. It wasn't that great to be honest, but I guess it's one of those things you get better at."

Cid stares at him, apparently struggling to decide whether to believe him or not. Harry looks down, face flushing slightly as he imagines it.

"Fuck!" Cid cries. "That's totally not fair!"

*FPS*

"So is it true that you've kissed half the people in our year?" Harry asks Tyler, who looks at him incredulously. "What?"

"It's not just our year, it's half the school," Cid says, half impressed and half jealous. "And he's not just snogged them. He's jerked them off, blown them, fingered them, and got it all back. Tyler the defiler."

Harry pulls a face. "Tyler the defiler? That's a stupid name."

"You're telling me," Tyler grumbles.

"But fitting," Cid declares. "How many classrooms have you defiled with your filthy habits?"

"I clean up afterwards and you don't think they're so filthy when you're wishing you could do it to Tabitha. Did you seriously not know all this?" Tyler asks Harry.

"Well it's not like you ever told me!"

"_Everyone_ knows, Harry."

"I didn't," he huffs.

*FPS*

Harry's alone in the dorm later when there's a knock at the door. He's knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, tidying his trunk, but swivels his magical eye to look over.

"Come in, Draco."

The door opens and he steps in, looking over at Harry then frowning when Harry glances up and he sees two green eyes. "How did you know it was me?"

Harry smiles. "You want something?"

He comes over, letting the door click shut behind him, and sits down on the bed, looking over the end at Harry. "Heard you snuck into Hogsmeade last night."

"Yeah."

"You making a run for it?"

Harry looks at him questioningly.

"You looked like you were making plans to run off on Saturday. I wondered if you decided to go through with it but got caught before you got very far."

"I wasn't caught exactly; I had a seizure, got carted to Saint Mungo's. Would you have missed me if I did run off?"

Draco smiles. "You'd come back soon enough, when you got lonely again. I don't have a queen-sized bed here though, so I hope you don't mind getting cosy when we sleep together."

"What makes you think I'd come running to you? I've got other friends to go to."

"Because," Draco says, and something in his voice makes Harry look up, green eyes meeting grey, "you came running to me last time."

*FPS*

There's something between them that Harry can't put a name to and he looks away before it becomes too intense.

*FPS*

"Of course the other option is you take me with you," Draco says lightly, standing and slipping his hands into his pockets, moving a few steps away. Harry glances at his back.

"You want to run away?"

"No, but I'd hate for you to get lonely. Not to mention you really shouldn't be alone for extended periods, given your health issues."

"I'm touched that you care so much, Draco."

"So you should be," Draco says, a grin on his face as he turns to look at Harry, and some of the tension between them slips away.

*FPS*

He lays in bed that night, staring at the canopy above him as he thinks about what he's learned that day. As he goes over the prophecy in his mind, he starts feeling the fear that the Draught of Peace kept at bay earlier—fear that Voldemort will kill him first, fear that Dumbledore's right and when the time comes he won't be able to do it, fear that when the time comes it'll be too late and he'll already be dead, dragged down by the hellhounds he knows are coming for him.

"Nothing to say on the matter?" he murmurs. The voice still hasn't made itself heard and it doesn't now. Only silence answers his question and he rolls over with sigh. A year since he'd started hearing it and he'd never thought he'd miss it if it left, but he would appreciate the voice's input on this, even if it was just to insult him for being afraid.

*FPS*

He half expects to have dreams that night of Voldemort and Diggory and the Assistant, of prophecies and murder and hellhounds, but instead he dreams of Draco, of watching him exchange hot, frantic kisses with a faceless male figure, their hands sliding over one another, the faceless male trailing his mouth along Draco's throat and drawing quiet, desperate moans from him.

He wakes up hornier than he's ever been before and when he sees Draco in the common room that morning he has to look away and pretend he doesn't see him as he hurries past, Wishing for no one to notice his red face.

*FPS*

He pauses as he's about to take his Draught of Peace before Potions, lowering the vial and looking at the purple liquid inside. It had shut the voice up all those times and now he wonders if it's shut it up for good. If it has, his continued usage would only prevent it coming back and although part of him realises that's a good thing his head feels too quiet and empty without the voice. He misses it.

Besides, what did he need the Draught of Peace for anyway? Snape? It's ridiculous. The man didn't give a damn about him and Harry was wasting his energy hating him? Not to mention he needed to learn how to control his emotions and magical outbursts and he'd never do that while he was dosing himself with Draughts of Peace.

*FPS*

"You're late, Mr Evans."

Harry stands in the doorway of the classroom, staring at Snape. He can feel the hatred and anger bubbling inside him, but he pushes it down, ignores it. Snape's not worth his anger and hatred. He's just another scumbag adult like any other on the street and Harry doesn't blow things up because of them.

"Sorry, professor," he apologises insincerely, moving to his seat. Snape watches him, dark eyes narrowed slightly, but he says nothing until Harry's sat down and set up his cauldron.

"Don't let it happen again."

*FPS*

He regrets not taking the Draught of Peace before Defence Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. Instead of an hour spent reading, he spends it listening to Cid tap his fingers and Tyler sigh with boredom every five minutes, while watching Tabitha Sinclair and Toni Kaidkin scribbling notes to each other on the table in front of him.

*FPS*

He, Cid, and Tyler are some of the first to arrive at the Room of Requirement that evening. It's set up like it had been when Hermione and Neville first suggested the idea to him and he joins them as Cid and Tyler look around, inspecting the books and the Dark Detectors set up at the back of the room.

*FPS*

When everyone's there, Harry locks the door and Neville and Hermione stand up at the front of the group, both looking nervous and unsure that they really want to be doing this. Hermione clears her throat several times before she eventually says, "So, um, I thought that, to begin, we should come up with a name for the group, to promote a feeling of team spirit and unity."

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" says Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" suggests Fred Weasley.

"I was thinking," says Hermione, frowning at Fred, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defence Association?" says Cho Chang, Ravenclaw seventh year and Seeker. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

Hermione's face lights up with an idea. "How about instead of Defence Association, we call it Dumbledore's Army? Umbridge thinks that's what Dumbledore's trying to create and it's why she won't teach us proper defence. It'd be kind of fitting, I think."

Everyone looks shocked at that revelation but there's murmurs of agreement from almost everyone. Harry doesn't say anything, but silently he objects to the idea of being a soldier for _Dumbledore_. Hermione takes the list of their names and writes in big letters across the top DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY then pins it to the wall.

*FPS*

"Right," Neville says when that's done, "we thought we'd begin with the Disarming Spell."

"Oh _please,_" says Zacharias Smith, the Hufflepuff who'd demanded proof of Voldemort's return in the Hog's Head. "I don't think _Expelliarmus _is exactly going to help us against You Know Who, do you?"

Neville stutters a little. Hermione looks like she's trying to come up with a convincing argument for it, which Harry thinks she should of done before the meeting. He stands up, drawing everyone's attention.

"Get up, Smith."

"What?" Smith says stupidly.

"I said get up, and take your wand out. Everyone else move aside."

Smith looks around, hoping for someone to argue with Harry and say he's being stupid, but the rest of them look as stumped as he is, so Smith gets to his feet, drawing his wand as the rest of the students move aside.

"Stand over there. You're going to pretend to be Voldemort and I'm going to be... well, me, because let's face it, statistics say I'm probably the one that'll face him again at some point."

"I'm not pretending to be You Know Who," Smith counters, looking outraged at the suggestion.

"Fine, then pretend to be a Death Eater, or a stuck up Hufflepuff, but either way, attack me."

*FPS*

Smith looks around but the others are all still silent, watching to see what'll happen. Harry draws his wand, holding it before him in a defensive position. Smith raises his own, opens his mouth to shout a spell, and Harry moves, swishing his wand in a diagonal motion.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Smith's wand leaps out of his hand and clatters to the floor. Smith's face turns red with anger and humiliation. Harry raises an eyebrow.

"I told you to attack me."

"You disarmed me."

"So? We're not duelling in front of a panel of judges for a trophy. I told you—you're Voldemort, I'm the Boy Who Lived. You want me dead. So attack me."

Smith lunges for his wand. Harry summons it. Once again, Smith straightens and glares at him.

"Is that all you've got?"

"What am I supposed to do? You've got my wand, I've lost."

"You're a pureblood, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so?"

Harry turns to the rest of the group. "I've got his wand. He thinks the fight's over. Anyone disagree?"

"He could beat you up," Tyler suggests.

"Excellent suggestion from someone raised around Muggles," Harry says with a pointed look at Smith, then notices Hermione with her hand in the air. "Hermione?"

"He could use martial arts, like Tae Kwon Do or something just to subdue you, rather than actually beat you up," she says with a frown at Tyler.

"Even better, for me at least. He could use pepper spray, if he had any. He could rugby tackle me and steal back his wand and mine. There's a lot of thing he could do but he spent his life being told magic is the be all and end all and if he can't do magic... well, then he's not much good at anything."

*FPS*

"Fuck you, Evans," Smith says, turning on Harry angrily. "I could beat you to a bloody pulp any day."

Harry lifts a hand to gesture to him. "Yes, you could. That's exactly the point. You _could_ have charged at me and physically attacked me. You _could_ have punched me and wrestled the wand from my hand while I was reeling from the blow. But you _didn't_. When we fought, you didn't think to assault me, you just thought to curse me. You're only thinking about attacking me now because you're humiliated and angry. Do you think if you lose your wand in a fight that a Death Eater is going to stand there taunting you for a little while, making you angry enough to physically attack him? No, he's going to curse your nuts off and leave you lying for dead while he moves onto your friends."

He turns to the group, some of whom have comprehending expressions on their faces and his voice turns serious as he speaks. "This is why we need to start with _Expelliarmus_—because it's possibly the most useful spell in your arsenal. All you purebloods, or half-bloods that were raised in an environment that focused on magic more than Muggle things—the minute someone takes away your wand, you freeze. You think you've lost everything because you can't do magic anymore. In fact there's probably more than a few Muggleborns who would freeze as well, because you've got used to relying so heavily on magic since you discovered it. Well here's a news flash—so do the Death Eaters. They probably freeze up more, because they're prejudiced louts who truly believe that magic is the only thing worthwhile knowing and when you take away their ability to do it, they're stumped.

"If there ever comes a time when you're fighting Death Eaters, they're not going to hesitate to kill you. Voldemort didn't hesitate to kill Cedric Diggory. Us being kids won't stop them, being students won't stop them, being a good, upstanding citizen won't stop them. We're targets, nothing more. But if you take away their wand, they're much less of a threat, especially if you've still got yours. Sure, they can still beat you to death, strangle you, whatever, but if you've still got your wand and you've got the reflexes, you can shield, you can curse them, you can do whatever. But they sure as hell can't cast the Killing Curse, and you've got a much better chance of surviving a strangulation than you do of surviving the Killing Curse."

"Except for you," calls George Weasley, and Harry smiles a little.

"I don't know what saved me last time, and I don't fancy finding out if I can do it again. I ever come face to face with Voldemort again, the first thing I'll do is take away his wand."

*FPS*

There's no more arguments about learning the Disarming Charm after that. Hermione comes over to Harry as everyone's practising, smiling broadly.

"I knew you'd be a good teacher."

"Whoa, hey, no I'm not the teacher. I was just making a point. You and Neville are still running this thing."

"I'm not sure they would agree with you."

"I don't care what they agree with. I'm not the teacher. You guys are in charge."

"Alright," she says, still grinning. "But you'll take a look at our lesson plan each week? You can at least tell us whether you agree with it or not."

"Fine," Harry sighs, feeling that he's going to end up running the D.A. whether he wants to or not.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

"Today's detention will be used to teach you Occlumency," Snape tells Harry on Saturday morning. Snape's stood over the desk in his office, using his wand to take thoughts and drop them into the Pensieve on the desk, the same one that Dumbledore had used to show Harry the prophecy. "Assuming it does not trigger a seizure, I fully expect you to master it by lunch time."

Harry nods. He wants to ask what memories Snape's putting into the Pensieve, but that would be taking an interest beyond that of a pupil to a teacher and he's determined not to do that.

*FPS*

When Snape's done, he moves the Pensieve to one of the high shelves then turns to Harry. "I will attempt to break into your mind. You will resist me. You may disarm me or defend yourself in any other way you can think of, provided it is neither illegal nor causes me permanent harm. I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from throwing me around as you have in the past."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Brace yourself... _Legilimency!_"

*FPS*

He can feel it, this presence inside his head, and half-forgotten memories from his childhood begin to draw forwards, but before they can he Wishes simply Out and the presence vanishes.

*FPS*

Harry blinks, mind coming back to the office. Snape can't quite manage to hide that he's impressed.

"Your internal voice is remarkably vocal," Snape says coolly. "We will attempt it again. Try not to be so... loud this time. _Legilimency_."

*FPS*

He doesn't throw him out this time. He doesn't even try. When Snape first delves in, he draws out the very first memory Harry has, the day he fell down the stairs and hit the safety gate without coming to any harm. When other memories start flowing, he lets them: Vernon hitting him, being sat in the cupboard under the stairs for days on end, being forced to do chores way beyond what a six year old should have to do, more hitting, listening to his uncle shouting abuse at him for being an unlovable, worthless freak.

When he feels Snape start to draw out, he pulls him back in with a snarl. "_No_."

He hears a sharp intake of breath from Snape but he's focused on his mind, on the memories, and thinks of the day Vernon put him in the hospital, remembers the fear he'd felt as Vernon hit him again and again, of the pain he'd felt, of lying in hospital afterwards, half blind, arm in a cast, stitches in his stomach from where they'd operated to fix the internal bleeding.

*FPS*

Snape staggers. Harry blinks and shakes his head slightly, now trying not to think of things he's spent years ignoring.

*FPS*

"I'm sorry."

Snape's voice is quiet. He's leant against the back wall, hands braced against the bricks, and he stares at Harry with undisguised guilt. It's the most open expression Harry's ever seen on him.

"I realise it's worth little and when your Draught of Peace wears off it may very well enrage you, but I am sorry."

"I haven't taken a Draught of Peace."

Snape stiffens.

"I realised that I was wasting a whole lot of energy hating you, but you're just not worth it. You didn't care about me; why should I care about you? So I've moved on. I'm over it. You're nothing more to me than just another teacher."

He thinks something like hurt flashes across Snape's face at that. He doesn't care.

*FPS*

They spend another hour and a half practising, until Harry can detect and eject or divert the subtlest invasion. Snape tells him it's not always about violently throwing someone out; sometimes it's better to make the invader think they've found what they want to find, presenting false memories and feelings to fool them. He rubs absently at his left forearm as he says it and Harry uses his magical eye to look through the black sleeve. He's not really surprised to see the Dark Mark burned into the skin underneath.

*FPS*

The Assistant lifts his head when his bedroom door opens. His cloak is gone and he sits on the floor, his back to the wall and his wrists bound in thick metal shackles that are Magic Locked by Voldemort himself and charmed to wall above his head. His hair is dark and greasy, his eyes green, and his robes wet around the crotch. It's been a week since he'd broken into the Ministry of Magic and he's been like this since Voldemort finished torturing him for the broken prophecy.

Pettigrew enters and casts a Cleansing Spell on the Assistant first then a Deodorising Charm to dispel the scent of stale piss, then he finally comes over with a glass of water that he puts to the Assistant's mouth and tilts for him to drink. The Assistant gulps it down gratefully; all he's been given in the last week is water and his stomach aches with hunger. When he's finished drinking, Pettigrew draws his wand and stuns him.

*FPS*

Voldemort watches carelessly as Pettigrew, panting with effort, drags the unconscious Assistant into the sitting room and dumps him unceremoniously in the middle of the floor. Preston Yaxley, standing nearby, closes the thin, leather-bound book he'd been reading and moves over to the unconscious figure, looking him over briefly.

"My lord," he say to Voldemort, looking up from the Assistant, "I am honoured to be chosen for such a prestigious position. My gratitude is endless. I—"

"That will do," Voldemort interrupts. "Begin the ritual."

*FPS*

Yaxley crouches, taking a small knife from his pocket and using it to cut across the palm of the Assistant's right hand then across his own left hand. He presses their hands together, blood mingling, and recites a lengthy Latin ritual from the book. On the final word, two ribbons of light spring out from their joined hands, one a dark yellow, the other a bright silver but with a thin strip of black through it. The yellow coils itself around the Assistant's forearm, the silver around Yaxley's, and they glow brightly for a moment before fading away. When they have, Yaxley releases their hands, pocketing the knife and drawing his wand, tapping it to the cuts and sealing them with a murmured spell before straightening up.

*FPS*

"_Rennervate_."

The Assistant wakes, blinking sleepily and tilting his head to look around, taking in his surroundings and the people with him. His gaze settles on Yaxley, staring for a long moment, and then shifts to Voldemort.

"You transferred my Bond."

"You failed me. I have taken the necessary steps to ensure your complete obedience."

"You couldn't have picked someone who isn't a pervert?"

"Preston," Voldemort prompts.

"Tell me your Trigger," Yaxley orders the Assistant, who shuts his eyes and smiles.

"I don't know it. My last Master never saw fit to inform me."

"How can you not know it? He must speak it to fully ensure your obedience."

"That he must, but he needn't let me know it, which you'd know if you'd done your research properly. It's called Shrouding."

*FPS*

He hates Triggers and hates Shrouding even more. With it, his Master can speak his Trigger—the word that forces him to obey, leaving him utterly unable to fight—but the Assistant never knows what the word is. He hears it, but the subtle magic of the Shrouding means it could be a word as odd as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and his mind, and anyone else's, would pay no attention to it than to the word 'the', and even if he's given an order as short as 'sit', the Shrouding still works to make him ignore his Trigger.

Even more unfortunately, the Assistant knows his Trigger is something relatively common and simple enough to be accidentally discovered. This is not the first time his Bond has been transferred to a new Master and several of them had managed to figure out his Trigger and use it against him. He had, in fact, lied when he said he was still Bound to his Lucius. He hasn't been for along time; he was just unfortunate enough that his last Master, the Bellatrix Lestrange of the previous timeline, hadn't particularly liked him and reiterated the orders to remain in Hogsmeade.

*FPS*

The Assistant opens his eyes again, looking at Voldemort. "You might at least have Bound me to someone knowledgeable, my lord. I fear my life is compromised by having my soul in the hands of someone so uneducated."

"Then let that fear encourage you to obey him even without your Trigger."

"I have little choice but to obey him, as you well know." He lifts his still bound hands. "Might I be relieved of my chains now, given that you have put me in far more restrictive, albeit invisible, ones?"

"Preston," Voldemort says, and the Assistant flicks his gaze to him.

"You will obey every order the Dark Lord gives you," he says, and the Assistant has to suppress an unhappy groan, lowering his hands and closing his eyes again as Yaxley continues talking. "You will not betray him. You will not fight him. You will speak to him with respect at all times. Is that clear?"

"Yes, _Master_," he mutters mockingly.

"You will speak to _me_ with respect. I ask you again, is that clear?"

A tremor runs through the Assistant and his hands clench, but he can't fight it. "Yes, Master," he says sincerely. Yaxley smirks.

Voldemort draws his wand, but instead of removing the shackles a jet of red light shoots towards the Assistant, hitting him in the chest and making his body jerk, leaving him unconscious once more.

"_Obliviate._"

*FPS*

Sirius and Lupin are happily surprised to get a letter from Saint Mungo's saying that James had consented to seeing them both again.

*FPS*

Sam greets them when they get there, shaking their hands and introducing herself.

"He's making progress," she tells them, "but he's still got a long way to go. I have to ask that whatever feelings you have towards Lucius Malfoy, you leave them at the door. As I said, he's making progress, but he's not yet ready to accept that what Lucius did was wrong."

She pauses and glances at Sirius then. "I know what happened last time you were here. James is still prone to using racist language. If he does, just gently correct him and continue with the conversation. You cannot lose your temper, Mr Black."

*FPS*

James smiles when they come in. It's only small, and a little forced, but it's there. He's sat in one of the meeting room chairs, his fingers drumming restlessly against the arm. His hair is clean and trimmed and his face is clean shaven, but he's still pale, his eyes heavily shadowed and haunted. He reminds Sirius of what he'd seen in the mirror the two or three times he'd look in one during his year on the run.

*FPS*

"I'm sorry," James says. They're the first words any of them speak. "I'm sorry for the things I said last time you were here. They were hateful and cruel, and I shouldn't have said them."

"You think?" Sirius says, then grunts when Lupin kicks him.

"We accept your apology," Lupin says with a smile.

*FPS*

"So," James says after an awkward pause. "How's things?"

Sirius shrugs. "Y'know, good as can be, all things considering."

James glances at him. "Considering?"

"Didn't anyone tell you? Voldemort's back."

James flinches at the name. "Everyone said it's a lie."

"It's not. The crackpots at the Ministry just refuse to accept it."

*FPS*

"How's Harry?"

"He's... alright," Lupin tells him.

"That sounds uncertain. Is there something wrong with him?"

Lupin smiles wryly. "In certain ways, yes. He has epilepsy, but he's just... not your average child."

"I know about the epilepsy, and his blindness. What happened to him was in the papers; _he_ told me about it. Does it bother him a lot?"

"No," Sirius answers firmly. "He's a tough kid."

"Wouldn't expect anything else from Lily's child," James says fondly, then frowns as a thought comes to him. "He lives with you, doesn't he? Why not with Snape?"

"Harry didn't know Severus was his father until this summer," Lupin explains. "Severus never told him."

"That's because _Severus_," Sirius sneers mockingly, "doesn't give a rat's arse about Harry."

James glances between them. "I think I'm missing something."

Lupin and Sirius glance at each other. Sirius shrugs. Lupin looks back to James. "Severus knew that Vernon Dursley was beating Harry before it reached the stage of putting him in the hospital. He attempted to threaten Vernon into stopping but without much success, and then Vernon put Harry in the hospital and after that Harry ran away. Harry hates Severus for not taking him away from that house."

"That explains why he got so upset when he was here," James says.

"What did you say him?" Sirius asks, more than a hint of accusation in his voice. "He refused to tell us."

"He asked me if I'd have raised him if _he_ hadn't taken me, and I told him—Harry—that I'd have given him to Snape to raise."

"Would you?" Sirius asks, half sceptical and half challenging. "Would you really have given him to _Snivellus_?"

James looks surprised and then he smiles a little wistfully. "I'd forgotten that nickname."

"Would you?" Sirius demands. The small smile fades from James' face.

"I don't know what I'd have done. Lily only told me that Harry was Snape's the night the Dark Lord attacked Godric's Hollow. It's why I left the house; I needed to clear my head. Then Mast- _he_ attacked me and... I don't know what might have happened if I'd been free. I know that I loved Harry when he was a baby and maybe I would have raised him as my own, but it's hard for me to remember that over everything Master drilled into me. Harry was the Mudblood's bastard; why should I have raised him?"

Sirius makes to move and Lupin grabs his arm, glancing at him warningly even as he says gently to James, "Muggleborn."

James sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and running a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he mutters, opening his eyes again. "I don't even mean it. It's just been knocked into me so much. I loved Lily, I really did, and I never had anything against her for being Muggleborn."

"We know," Lupin says. "We did have to put up with you mooning over her for years before she finally dated you."

James almost smiles at that.

"What about Harry?" Sirius asks. "Got anything against him?"

"I don't know him, except what I've heard, which is all biased. But I'd like to get to know him."

*FPS*

The Assistant doesn't open his eyes when he drifts awake again. He knows instantly that something's wrong—no, not wrong. Different. He can feel it. An itch that is normally nothing more than a vague annoyance, something he can ignore for months and soothe with the caresses of an attentive and indulgent lover, is now burning, a raw nerve exposed and desperate for something to ease it. It's an ache that wouldn't be satisfied by the most experienced whores indulging his deepest, darkest desires until he's exhausted body and mind. It's a need to be physically close to his Master, a Master he knows instinctively is a great distance away.

*FPS*

He only opens his eyes when he hears his bedroom door open, not bothering to lift his head and look at Voldemort until the man has crossed the room and stands over him. He has no memory of engaging in the Bond transfer ritual and he's not about to inform Voldemort that whatever memory charms he used were pointless. He doesn't need to remember the ritual to know it's happened.

*FPS*

"Tell me, Assistant, have you ever been imprisoned in Azkaban?"

"A few times."

"Do the Dementors drain your powers as much as they do anyone else?"

"I'm weakened but I can still do magic around them if I'm not chained with magic suppressants, although I've never let myself stay in their presence for any longer than a year; I don't know what an extended stay would do to me."

Voldemort lifts his wand and flicks it. The chains around the Assistant's wrists click and spring open, falling to the floor with a clang. Instantly the Assistant's appearance changes back to the familiar blond hair and blue eyes.

"I have work for you, Assistant."

*FPS*

James trashes his room. He tosses the bed, throws over the chairs, sends his dinner flying at a healer's head, and tries to strangle Dennis, the Muggleborn from down the hall. It's his first violent episode in weeks.

*FPS*

When he's calmed down, Sam comes to talk to him. He's been strapped to his bed and glares angrily up at the ceiling.

"What going on, James? Why did you trash your room and attack Dennis?"

"He's a filthy Mudblood."

"Muggle-"

"He's a Mudblood! They're all Mudbloods and filth and blood traitors and we all need teaching a lesson!"

"We?" Sam repeats, and James deflates, going limp on the bed, his angry glare falling away. He closes his eyes, sighing through his nose and saying nothing. "Is this about your friends?"

"They're not my friends," he says bitterly, without opening his eyes. "I'm not allowed to be friends with blood traitors and animals. _He_ said so."

*FPS*

Recently Lucius has only ever been 'he' and 'him', no longer 'master'. Sam had been planning on addressing it in their next session, but she'll leave it for now. He's too volatile at the moment.

*FPS*

"James, you can be friends with whomever you like. If other people picked our friends, they wouldn't really be friends. We wouldn't like them for who they are; we'd only pretend to like them for someone else's sake."

"He'd be angry if he knew."

"Lucius doesn't run your life anymore, James. He doesn't know about anything you do, and even if he did, no one would let him hurt you again. He's locked away and he's staying that way for a long time."

*FPS*

James hates that. He's knows, logically, that Lucius had no right to lock him in a cellar for fourteen years and torture him in ways that make him shudder just to remember it, just like he knows that Lucius deserves to be imprisoned for what he did. But although James is feeling half-forgotten emotions about his old friends and the desire to reconnect with them, he also still wants to crawl back to Lucius, kneel at his feet, and profess undying loyalty. It's conflicting, to say the least.

*FPS*

At Harry's next detention, he gets told to sit at the table to one side, which holds several old, cobwebbed boxes filled with old report cards of previous punishments given to students. He's to rewrite them to replace records that have faded with age or been damaged by mice. It's slow, boring work punctuated by uncomfortable twists in his gut as he finds report cards bearing Sirius's name, as well as those of James, Lupin, and Pettigrew. He'd always known his godfather was fond of pranks and could be spiteful, but after so many hours spent writing out card after card, he's forced to come to the unpleasant realisation that Sirius and James had been bullies, plain and simple.

*FPS*

When he gets back to Slytherin later he takes from his trunk the two-way mirror Sirius had given him, sits on his bed and pulls the curtains shut, casting a Silencing Charm on them to make sure no one listens in before he looks down at the mirror.

"Sirius?"

He waits a moment for a response, but none comes.

"Sirius Black?"

For another moment nothing happens, and then he jumps as a hand appears on the mirror, a large, sweaty hand, and Sirius' voice, a little strained and breathless, sounds through it. "Five minutes, kid."

"Um... okay."

*FPS*

Ten minutes later he's still frowning at the mirror, feeling a little worried, when Sirius' face appears in it. His hair is ruffled and he still sounds a little breathless when he speaks.

"Still there, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Are you okay? You sounded weird."

Sirius chuckles and Harry hears the sound of Lupin laughing quietly beside him. "I'm fine, kid. What's up?"

But Harry's suddenly realised just what he interrupted and instead of answering he turns bright red, stuttering an apology and feeling his face burn up as Sirius and Lupin both laugh loudly.

*FPS*

"Harry, stop apologising," Sirius says, still grinning and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "We've been interrupted in worse positions and you'll get over it. It's not like you saw anything; trust me, that would be far more embarrassing for all of us."

Harry snaps his mouth shut, still bright red.

"What'd you call me for? Everything alright?"

Some of his embarrassment fades as he remembers the reason he called. "I had detention today, for the Ministry thing. I have to have them every Saturday for the rest of term."

"I know. With Snape, isn't it? Did it go alright?"

"I had to write out these old report cards from years ago that detail other people who did bad stuff."

"Okay," Sirius says slowly, clearly not understanding why this was a reason for Harry to call.

"You were in a lot of them, and James and sometimes Remus and Pettigrew."

"Not surprising. We did get in a lot of trouble back in school."

"You were bullies."

There's a pause, then Sirius mutters, "We weren't bullies."

"You used curses on people all the time, pulled tricks—not harmless pranks, but you actually hurt people."

"We were teenagers, Harry, and we did stupid things. All teenagers do. You certainly have."

"I don't bully and hurt people."

*FPS*

The image in the mirror blurs suddenly and he gets a glimpse of their bedroom before Lupin's face looks out.

"We can't change what we did, Harry," he says, "but we grew up. We're not teenagers anymore. We're only human, Harry—well, mostly," he says with a little smile, "and being human means making mistakes. There's plenty of things you've done or will do in the next few years which you'll regret when you're our age, things that you'll look back on and wonder what the hell you were thinking when you did it. It won't make you a bad person anymore than the things we did as teenagers make us bad people."

Harry nods, not so much out of agreement but because he really wants the conversation to end now. He hates it when people bring up the future.

"I should go. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"It's fine," Lupin assures him. "We'd rather an awkward interruption than you feeling like you can't call us. Enjoy the rest of your day."


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

As the first Quidditch match of the season approaches, the tension in the school increases tenfold. Ron Weasley joins the Gryffindor team as Keeper, but with only mild skill, which prompts the Slytherin team to keep up a constant stream of insults and taunts about Ron's abilities. They've also replaced Nick Coleman, their Seeker who graduated the year before, with Ginny Weasley, who's not terrible but, Draco assures the Slytherins confidently, she's not as good as Draco.

*FPS*

Late on Hallowe'en evening, a tall man with jet black hair that reaches his waist is found attempting to break into the Minister's office at the Ministry of Magic. When apprehended, the man gives his name as Gareth Stuart but has no identification nor a wand—he had been attempting to enter the Minister's office using a set of Muggle lock picks—and he stinks of alcohol and carries several vials of an illegal hallucinogenic potion, which he claims he planned to plant in the Minister's office in an attempt to get him arrested, or at least stripped of his position. He's sentenced to five years in Azkaban for trespassing and possession of illegal substances.

*FPS*

Harry misses the Gryffindor-Slytherin match due to serving the fourth of his Saturday detentions and by the time he's let out the match is over. Slytherin won, but Draco's in the Hospital Wing. As Cid tells the story, the Slytherin spectators had spent the entire match singing a song Draco had come up with to annoy Ron Weasley and put him off his game, then at the end of the match, Draco, cocky from the win, had taunted Ron, who responded with an unpleasant comment about Lucius. Draco had thrown a punch and Ron had retaliated. George had leapt in on the fight as well and only the combined efforts of the Gryffindor Chasers had stopped Fred from joining in too.

*FPS*

"Hey."

"Well, _hello_," Draco drawls. "My day just got a whole lot better."

Harry goes over to his bed, cheeks slightly pink. Draco notices, but doesn't comment on it.

"Have you come to weep at my bedside and beg me not to die?"

"As if. You got beat up a bit, you're not dying. Madam Pomfrey's already fixed you up by the look of things."

Draco shrugs, smirking. His face shows no signs of having been hit or even so much as scratched lightly and he's sitting on the bed looking perfectly fine and pain free.

"You still came to see me. Clearly you were concerned for my handsome face."

"Clearly I should be going because there's not enough room in this place for anyone else when your big head is in here."

"My head is perfectly proportioned, thank you very much. It's also quite sore."

"Aww, you poor little thing. Did you want me to kiss it better?" he mocks, then looks surprised when Draco grins.

"If you're offering."

His smirk says he clearly doesn't expect Harry to follow through, so Harry does exactly that, and it's Draco's face that turns surprised when Harry leans in and presses his lips to his pale forehead. He pulls back with his cheeks red, but he's smirking. It doesn't take long for Draco to get past his shock.

"My lips are sore too, you know."

"Don't push your luck, Malfoy."

Draco pouts but Harry just shakes his head, laughing.

*FPS*

By the end of dinner, the entire school knows about the new Educational Decree that has given Umbridge the right to overrule other teachers' punishments and that the Weasley boys have been banned from ever playing Quidditch again—all of them, even though Fred hadn't laid a hand on Draco. Harry feels bad for them, but he's more concerned about the new Decree and what it might mean for him, but the rest of the weekend passes and he isn't hauled up to Umbridge's office and expelled for 'sneaking into Hogsmeade', so he assumes enough time has passed that she won't be overruling the punishment already given to him. It does make him reconsider attending the D.A. meetings though. If she ever found out about those, there was absolutely no chance he'd avoid an expulsion.

*FPS*

When Sirius and Remus leave the hospital after their next visit to James, the healers brace themselves for another violent episode, but it never comes.

*FPS*

D.A. meetings progress well. Harry can't bring himself to stop attending, whatever the risk. He still insists that Hermione and Neville are the one's running it, but he can't deny that he generally spends most of his time assisting the others and he kind of enjoys it, advising them on proper wand movements and correct pronunciation. He listens to Hermione's lesson plans and reads up on the spells to make sure he's perfectly familiar with them before the meetings, so he can teach it properly even if he can perform the spells half-arsed himself.

*FPS*

"I want to go."

Sam shuts the door behind her, looking over at James. "Go where?" she asks, moving to the chair.

"I don't know," he admits with a frown. "But I want to leave. I want... I want to be normal. Like before."

"Before when?"

"Before..." He brings his feet up, crossing his legs and staring at his hands, resting in his lap. He sighs, and finishes quietly. "Before Lucius."

*FPS*

_Well this is dreadfully tedious work._

"You're telling me."

"Excuse me?"

Harry freezes in the middle of writing out another old report card and looks over at Snape, sat behind his own desk marking essays.

"Nothing. Sorry."

Snape frowns but bends his head and returns to his marking. Harry continues writing.

_You really ought to watch that. People might start realising you're not quite right in the head._

'You've been gone for weeks. You surprised me.'

_Yes, well, whatever the Assistant did to us knocked me out for a while._

'What are you talking about?'

There's a brief pause, then _Legilimency, it appears. Presumably that's what the Assistant used on us to obtain the whereabouts of the prophecy, but... odd that it made you seize when your session with daddy dearest didn't._

'How do you know about that?'

_I'm inside your head, moron. I see everything you see. In any case, the Assistant hit me hard. I see he stole the prophecy too, and then lied to Voldemort about it. How very curious._

"Mr Evans, you're meant to be copying reports, not day dreaming."

Harry starts, then realises he hasn't written another word, and glances at Snape. "Sorry, professor."

*FPS*

_So you're no longer dosing yourself to deal with your daddy issues. That is good to see._

'I'll still dose myself to shut you up.'

_No you won't. You've missed me. Don't bother denying it, I can see the truth. You were worried I'd gone for good. You _wanted_ me back._

'Yeah and I'm regretting it immensely.'

The voice just laughs softly.

*FPS*

Although Sam had hoped to get James to start thinking about leaving the hospital to live a normal life, she's worried about his determination to get out now that the idea's taken him. She's glad he's opening up more in their sessions and spending more time in the day room with the other patients—he'd even gone as far as apologising to Dennis—but she's not entirely convinced it's genuine. He hasn't previously done anything even remotely sneaky, but it's her job to analyse patient actions and motives, and James' are questionable.

*FPS*

Draco's peering over Harry's shoulder in the library for almost five minutes before it finally bothers him.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, actually. Why are you studying runes that I'm pretty sure even the seventh years aren't working on?"

"I have broad interests," he answers without looking up from the runes he's copying out.

"Clearly. You realise you're taking up an entire table?"

"There are others. Go sit somewhere else."

Draco pulls out a chair and sits down. Harry doesn't even glance at him. Draco picks up one of the books, turning a few pages and frowning.

"Seriously, Evans, this is way beyond the Hogwarts curriculum. What are you even looking at Enochian sigils for anyway? No one uses this stuff."

"Personal project, and no one uses any of this stuff; that's why it's called _Ancient_ Runes. Give me that, will you?"

*FPS*

He's learning everything he can about magic suppression runes. He learns that they can be employed in different ways—as with Dumbledore's cuffs, they could be encircled around a part of a person's body, restricting how much magic could leave their body; or, and he suspects this is what happened at the graveyard, they could be etched between two concentric circles and prevent anyone within the circles from using magic entirely; or they could be spread out and combined with other runes, like on the Assistant's cloak, to suppress the magic of anything on the area of the surface covered with runes.

Fortunately, he also discovers repulsion and inversion runes, which could be used to turn the power of magic suppression back on themselves, rending them useless. He's thinking of making a cloak like the Assistant's, only with inversion runes so he can be protected against people trying to stop him using his magic.

But he also discovered references to demon repelling runes and sigils, and that was something he couldn't resist researching further, so now he's studying that too, hoping to find something that might protect him from Crowley and the hellhounds when his ten years are up even if he doesn't manage to find a way to break the deal.

All the extra studying has also had the added bonus of making Ancient Runes his second best subject after History of Magic.

*FPS*

Draco hands the book over, watching him look between it and another book then scribble something in his notes.

"What are you doing over Christmas?" Draco asks.

"Going home. Why?"

"I just think you'd love the library at the Manor. It's not as big as this, but we've got books Hogwarts would never stock."

Harry says nothing for a while, continuing to write notes from the Enochian text before moving it aside to look at a book filled with Egyptian symbols. "I don't think that'd be exactly a good idea. I doubt your mother wants me in your house."

There's a tense pause. Harry still doesn't look up.

"She didn't know—"

"I know, you told me, and I believe it. But I'm still... I'd be an uncomfortable reminder of what your father did."

"Is this really about my mother or is it about you? I get it if you're uncomfortable being there, but you can just say it instead of trying—"

"Draco," Harry interrupts, looking up for the first time, a slightly exasperated smile on his face, "I spent a night in your bed. You think—"

*FPS*

There's a thud of someone dropping something heavy behind the bookshelf to Harry's right, followed by a loud curse, and then Madam Pince's disapproving voice.

"Really, Professor Snape, there are _children_ about."

Harry stares at his notes, his face turning red. Draco clears his throat. Both of them pretend not to notice Snape as he stalks out from behind the stacks and towards the entrance. There's a minute of silence after he's left, then Draco says, "So. Our Head of House now thinks we're sleeping together."

_Ha! Never mind that—your _daddy_ thinks you're sleeping together!_

"He's not—"

He bites his tongue, hard enough to feel blood fill his mouth. Draco looks at him oddly.

"He's not what?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." He stands, closing books and gathering his notes then shoving them into his bag.

"You heading back to Slytherin?"

"No, I've got a... thing. With Hermione and Neville."

Draco doesn't insult them but his lip curls slightly. "I'll see you later then."

*FPS*

_Correct me if I'm wrong_, drawls the voice as Harry leaves the library, _but I do believe you're having feelings for him._

'He's my friend.'

_But you want him to be more. You've been having some _very_ interesting dreams about him._

Harry says nothing. There's no point in denying it, but he finds the whole situation confusing really. He doesn't think he's attracted to Draco, because he still doesn't want to do anything sexual with him, but he is having, and enjoying, dreams about watching Draco do sexual things with other boys.

*FPS*

On the last Saturday of November, Hedwig brings Harry a letter from home. He opens it at the breakfast table, reading it through, then standing and abruptly leaving, ignoring Cid's surprised curse as he knocks him in his hurry to get up.

*FPS*

Draco finds him in a small niche in the corridor leading down to the dungeons.

"You alright?"

Harry glances up then back down at his letter, still held in both hands.

"That from home?"

"Yeah."

"Everything okay?"

"The healers say James is ready to leave the hospital. He wants to move in with Sirius and Remus... and me."

Draco frowns. "That's expected, isn't it? I mean, he's your dad and he's friends with your godfather and Lupin."

"He's not," Harry murmurs, still staring at the letter.

_What are you doing?_

"Not what?"

"My dad."

"Yes, he's not what?"

"He's not my dad."

*FPS*

Draco stares at him. "He—wha- no, but—" He breaks off. Harry doesn't look up. Draco grabs his arm and drags him down the corridor until they reach the nearest classroom—the Potions dungeon—and pulls him inside, shutting the door behind them then turning to Harry.

"What _exactly_ do you mean by 'he's not my dad'? Do you mean you just don't consider him a dad because he never raised you or do you mean he's not genetically related to you?"

"That."

"_Which?_"

"He's not genetically related to me. He's not my dad."

"No, that—how can he not be your dad? He's James Potter. You're the Boy Who Lived."

"The Boy Who Lived is a bastard."

Draco shakes his head. "I don't understand."

"My mum had an affair. She cheated. She slept with another man. She—"

"Yes, alright, I get it."

_Why are you telling him this? I know you've been having... feelings... for him, but this is our big, shameful secret. We're not supposed to tell anyone._

*FPS*

"How long have you known?"

"Since the day James was found. The guy Mum slept with told me that day."

"Your real father. Who would be...?"

"A bastard who doesn't give two shits about me."

"Right," Draco says, sounding like he's still struggling to wrap his head around it all. "Because otherwise he'd have raised you."

"He knew," Harry says. "He knew my uncle was hitting me years before he put me in the hospital, but he just left me there."

"You're right, he is a bastard. If you want, I can poison him for you. I'm pretty good at Potions."

_That's not a bad idea._

"Don't tempt me."

*FPS*

"This doesn't change things between us, does it?"

Draco shrugs. "Not for the worse."

"What do you mean?"

"Things have always been a little awkward between us because of you being James Potter's son, but if you're not, then they don't have to be anymore. Not so much, at least," he says. "I realise he's still your step-father and if my father hadn't... well, you probably wouldn't have ever had to worry about your real father taking you in."

_He's right about that. You know James likely only said he'd have given you away because of Lucius' brainwashing. Without it, you might have grown up in a nice loving home with a not so crazy step-daddy. I wonder what that would have done for _your_ sanity._

"You know you can't tell anyone."

Draco snorts. "Yeah, I figured that much. Who else knows?"

"No one."

"No one?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, Sirius and Remus and James, obviously. Also Dumbledore. But none of my friends, except you now."

"Why?"

Harry frowns at him. "Why what?"

"Why me? You've been friends with Granger, Longbottom, Lyle, Villiers—all of them for years, but not me."

"You never told anyone who I was," Harry answers honestly. "You didn't try to use it against me, either. When everyone else thought I was petrifying students, you believed it wasn't me, and last year you believed me when I said I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire. We might not have been friends, but you've still had more faith in me than most people."

*FPS*

"Can I kiss you?"

"Wha- uh... I mean... you want to?"

"After what you just said? Yes, I dearly want to kiss you."

"Okay."

Draco lips press against Harry's, firm and more insistent than when he'd kissed him in the summer, and Harry, expecting it this time, leans into it, bringing his hands up to tentatively rest on Draco's hips, not entirely sure if that's what he's supposed to do with his hands, but Draco doesn't stop him. Draco's own hands cup Harry's face, tilting his head slightly, then one hand moves across his head, fingers combing through dark hair until his hand settles against the back of his skull, while the other drops to Harry's shoulder, sliding down his arm then round his back to rest against the small of his back, gently pulling him closer.

*FPS*

Draco breaks it, pulling away then leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, briefly. Harry stares at him, hyper aware of the hands still pressed to his back and tangled in his hair, and the warmth coming from Draco's body and how he absolutely doesn't want to move even a millimetre because the voice in his head is silent and he doesn't want to risk making it speak and ruining the moment.

*FPS*

"There's a butterfly on your shoulder," Draco murmurs.

"Is there?"

"Yes. It's blue."

"They usually are."

Draco draws back a little, raising an eyebrow. "Do you always get butterflies on your shoulders when you kiss people?"

"No. I mean, yes. Maybe. You're the only person I've ever kissed. I just meant, when I conjure butterflies they're nearly always blue."

"And you felt the need to conjure one now?"

"I didn't mean to. I do accidental magic a lot. I blow things up when I'm angry."

"And conjure butterflies when you're happy?"

"I like butterflies."

Draco opens his mouth to say something, then his eyes flicker and go wide. "It was you!"

"What was me?"

"At the World Cup when all those butterflies appeared in the Top Box!"

"Oh. Yes. It was."

"Then you can make them vanish?"

Harry turns his head slightly, dragging his gaze away from Draco's face to glance at the butterfly sat sedately on his right shoulder, and it vanishes.

"I'm starting to think I hardly know you, Evans. How many more times are you going to surprise me?"

"Plenty, I'm sure."

"I hope you keep to that," he says, smirking. "I'll be dreadfully disappointed if you don't."

In place of an answer, Harry kisses him, a little too eager and making their noses bump as a result. He doesn't let it stop him, adjusting and pressing their mouths together, leaning closer when Draco's arm tightens around him, feeling Draco's chest pressed to his, his mouth opening slightly and—

*FPS*

The classroom door opens. Snape freezes in mid step, staring at them as they jump apart. There's a butterfly in Draco's hair and a few more fluttering in the air around them. Snape turns on his heel, stalks out the room and slams the door shut behind him.

"That was weird," Draco comments as Harry vanishes the butterflies. "Normally he just scowls and tells us to get out."

_I may be able to handle you having a relationship with him if you continue to traumatise your daddy like that,_ the voice says delightedly and Harry bites back an annoyed sigh. _Can you imagine his face if he caught you getting buggered? He might actually have a heart attack from the shock._

"You make out with people a lot in here?"

"I just meant classrooms in general."

"Oh. Are you, um..."

"What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Tell me."

"No, I don't—it's nothing. Really."

Draco considers him. "You're wondering if I'm going to keep making out with people in classrooms."

"No. That wasn't—"

"I will."

"Oh," Harry says in a small voice.

"Assuming you don't mind, that is. We can always keep it to the dorms if you prefer, but there's a much higher risk of intrusion and Theo trying to spy on us."

Harry turns red despite, or perhaps because, most of his wet dreams involve him spying on other people.

"Assuming again," Draco says with forced lightness, "that you want to make out with me."

"I do," he says quickly. Draco's entire face lights up with a smile and Harry can't help grinning back.

* * *

**A/N:** Quick reminder that I'm going on holiday tomorrow, so no updates until Tuesday the 10th. Hopefully you won't complain given that I've left you with H/D finally getting together.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N:** Back again. Thanks for the reviews, and now we're back to our regularly scheduled updates!

**Chapter 46**

Harry procrastinates leaving for detention and ends up arriving five minutes late. Snape says nothing about catching him and Draco or his tardiness, just gestures to the table holding the boxes of report cards. Harry sits down and gets to work.

*FPS*

_As amusing as it is to imagine your daddy's reaction if he caught you getting buggered, you do realise that's a slight problem with your decision to have a relationship with Draco, don't you? He'll be expecting that, not to mention all the other nasty things Cid likes to talk about and which you have absolutely no interest in doing with him. Even in your dreams you never do anything with him. You just watch. You might have enjoyed kissing him earlier, but you weren't aroused. You didn't want to do anything more than that and you still don't._

*FPS*

He spends the entire detention thinking about Draco and completely forgets about the letter from home until he goes to leave and Snape calls him back, holding the letter out and saying it'd fallen from his pocket. Harry reads it again as he heads back to Slytherin. Sirius had said James had requested to live with them, and Sirius and Lupin would like him to, but that Harry's opinion mattered as well and if he said no they would accept that.

He heads straight to his dorm when he gets back to Slytherin. Only Orion Devaux is in there, but as usual they ignore each other. Harry flops onto his bed with a sigh, staring at the canopy above his bed. He doesn't know if he wants James to move in with them or not. All he knows of the man is what he'd seen during the brief visit in the summer and that wasn't someone that he really wants to live with, but he knows that's not all there is to James, and Sirius and Lupin say he's a lot better and mention that they won't make a final decision until Harry's been to visit James again to see for himself.

*FPS*

He jumps when the door crashes open and Cid comes in, instantly fixing his gaze on Harry and strutting over to his bed with a wolfish grin. Tyler follows him in more sedately, going over to his own bed and picking up his cat, Aurora.

"So you finally did it," Cid says.

"Did what?"

"Fucked Malfoy."

Harry sits up, gaping. "I did not—" he starts loudly, then lowers his voice. "I did not fuck him!"

'And you can shut up,' he says to the voice, which is snickering at him.

"What _did _you do with him? Because Tyler says Malfoy just turned him down claiming that you two were going out, and Ed Coleman told me he heard you two talking in the library a week ago and you claimed you'd slept in Malfoy's bed. So really, all the evidence suggests you're fucking him."

"That's wasn't—I never fucked him. We just shared a bed. It was the summer and—"

"Wait, you were at his _house_?" Tyler interrupts, and Aurora meows in protest as he stops scratching her ears. "This summer?"

"It was only one night."

*FPS*

"The Malfoy family really has gone to the dogs," Orion sneers from his own bed. The three of them look at him. He's leant back against the headboard and doesn't look away from the paperback book held in one hand as he speaks. "They used to be a respectable family, now look at them: patriarch in prison, getting divorced, and the only heir sleeping with halfie boys. It's such a shame to see a family like that fall apart so easily."

He turns the page of his book, acting as though he hadn't even been speaking to them at all.

"Dare you to say that to his face," Cid says. Orion ignores him. "Yeah, I thought so. You know he's still a whole lot better than you, Devaux. People around here actually respect the Malfoy name, even with Mr Malfoy in prison. I don't see anyone gossiping about the Devaux family."

Orion shoots him a filthy look. "My family is respectable enough that no one needs to gossip about them. When they discuss us, it's only to comment on how perfect we are. At least I have a family name people know. No one's heard of _yours_."

"They might not know Villiers, but they certainly know Swift."

"Irrelevant. You're not related to Dylan Swift by blood."

"Nope, but he has a daughter he loves more than life itself, and that daughter happens to think the sun shines out of her big brother's backside. All she'd have to do is smile sweetly at her daddy and he'd do anything for her, even name his step-child heir to the family fortune."

*FPS*

"So, you _are_ going out with him, right?" Tyler asks Harry, who'd prefer they kept arguing with Orion.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess? He turned me down and he never turns me down. It seems pretty serious to me."

Harry shrugs, fiddling with his letter. "We kissed. Earlier, in the Potions dungeon."

"Seriously? Of all the places in school to have a snog and you choose the Potions dungeon?"

"It's not like I planned it! It just sort of happened. We were talking and then he said he wanted to kiss me and we did."

Tyler shrugs. "Sounds about right."

"'Sounds about right'?" Cid says disbelievingly. "What happened to spontaneous kissing? Who the fuck asks permission?"

"Malfoy does. He asks before he does anything, or at least warns you first. It's kind of annoying when you just want him to get on with it, but he insists. I asked him about it once; he said his mother made a huge deal about consent issues and communication when she explained the birds and bees."

Cid sniggers. "He got that talk from his mum?"

"Apparently."

"Dad tried giving it to me, but I already knew about it all from these guys in the village. I'd listen in on them talk but they caught me once and told me all about it. Dad didn't even ask; he was just glad he didn't have to do it. What about you?" he says to Harry. "Who'd you get the talk from? Your godfather?"

"No one. I just read in books—" ("What a surprise," Tyler mutters.) "—and listened to you guys."

"You do know how to, right? To fuck a guy and stuff?" Cid says. "Because if not you might want to read up on it before you get much further with Malfoy."

_Told you_, singsongs the voice in his head.

*FPS*

Sam's still not completely convinced about James' motives, but he's been at the hospital five months and as long as he continues like this she's got no real reason to keep him. Even his continued nightmares and persistent restlessness aren't enough to hold him and she thinks it's possible that being confined to the hospital is actually making them worse.

From what she knows of Sirius Black, she doesn't think he's an ideal housemate for someone in James' situation; she doesn't like him moving in with a werewolf either, and she has mixed feelings about him living with the illegitimate child his wife had with his childhood enemy, but James had been adamant that he wasn't moving into any kind of supported housing with strangers and there's no one else that the man can live with. So she meets with Sirius and Lupin and has a lengthy discussion about what to expect when James leaves the hospital and the things they'll need to do to support him.

She also mentions the idea of seeing a psychiatrist themselves. She'd given them the name of a colleague when James had first been found, but she knows they haven't contacted him and as far as she knows Sirius never received any sort of counselling for his prison sentence. She pushes the idea a little harder this time, making a point of how James moving in will be difficult for everyone and it'll only be detrimental to his recovery if they don't properly deal with the stress of the situation.

*FPS*

"You avoiding me?"

"No."

_Liar_.

"So you're not hidden in the furthest corner of the library studying ridiculously ancient runes—again—on a Sunday afternoon because you're embarrassed by what happened yesterday?"

"No."

"And you're not refusing to look at me because you've changed your mind about wanting to go out with me but don't have the nerve to tell me so?"

Harry says nothing. Draco nods.

"Evans, do you remember what I said in the summer, after the first time I kissed you?"

"You said lots of stuff."

"The bit about not being a pathetic Hufflepuff who'll cry and write bad poetry if you turn me down."

"Yes."

Draco sighs. He reaches over and takes the book from Harry's hands then grabs his chin, lifting his head and staring at him until Harry reluctantly meets his gaze. "Evans, I may not be a pathetic Hufflepuff but I do have my dignity and I'm not going to be messed about. I like you—a lot. I want to go out with you. If you don't want to, fine, but don't play with me. So I'm going to ask you one last time, and if you say no, it's fine, I accept it. But I want a straight answer: do you want to go out with me?"

"It's not—"

"Yes or no, Evans."

"It's not that simple!"

*FPS*

Draco drops his hand. "How is it not that simple? Either you like me or you don't. What's complicated about it?"

"Because I don't—I like you, I do, and I'm not embarrassed by yesterday. I mean, except for the bit with Snape, but that's... anyway, it's just I don't..."

"You don't what?"

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh and gets up, folding his arms over his chest as he turns away from Draco, moving to the window and looking down onto the grounds at a group of first years having a snowball fight. He doesn't say anything for a while, but Draco remains equally silent, apparently content to wait him out, and eventually Harry sighs again, leans his head against the glass, and mutters, "I don't want to have sex."

*FPS*

He's got his magical eye on Draco, so he sees the surprise cross his face then the smile that follows and the quiet laughter. A sudden anger rushes through him and several shelves of books start rattling dangerously. Harry grits his teeth, breathing hard and forcing himself to calm down before he causes any damage.

"Is that really what this is about? Sex?"

"Don't mock me," he snarls.

"I'm not mocking you, Evans." He stands, moving around the table to come and stand on the other side of the window. Harry glares at the glass. "You realise there's more to relationships than sex, don't you?"

"I'm not stupid," he snaps.

"You're acting stupid. If you've got some other reason not to go out with me, I'd love to hear it, but not wanting sex isn't enough. You said you like me, so go out with me."

"Why? You're going to want sex and... blow jobs and... and all that other stuff, but I don't and I probably never will so you'll just end up hating me because I won't give you what you want, so we might as well just not go out and stay friends."

*FPS*

"You enjoyed yesterday, right? I mean, you were conjuring butterflies and you said that means you're happy, so you liked kissing me."

"Yeah, but... I mean, kissing is... it's not..."

"It's not sexual."

Harry nods.

"Okay, so we keep things non-sexual."

Harry glances at him then away again.

"I'm being serious, Evans. I'm willing to try a non-sexual relationship. Cuddling and innocent kisses only."

"And if that doesn't work? If you want more?"

"Then I... will... figure it out. Don't look at me like that," he adds when Harry glances at him sceptically. "We like each other and we want to go out, we've established that. Surely the decision to ignore my sexual desire is mine, not yours?"

_This boy really does have it bad for you, doesn't he? Willing to give up sex just like that... what on earth does he see in you, I wonder._

*FPS*

"I just don't want you to hate me."

"I won't. Not for this anyway. I'm going into this fully informed of the boundaries; it's not like you're leading me on with false expectations."

"You'll hate me for something else?"

"Well if you turn into a clingy, obsessive, controlling arsehole, yeah, I'm gong to have some issues with you."

Harry smiles at that.

"So, we're going out?"

"One more condition."

Draco sighs. "You'd better be worth the effort, Evans. What is it?"

"Stop calling me Evans."

Draco blinks, surprised, clearly expecting something more than that, then a smile spreads across his face. "What would you prefer?" he drawls, stepping closer and sliding his hand across Harry's hip. "Darling? Sweetie? My foxy little thing?"

"Shut up," Harry says, poking a finger into his side and grinning. "You can call me Harry."

"The rest of your friends call you Harry."

"Funnily enough I think that _might_ be because it's my name. Just possibly."

"How about pet? Dearie? Sweet cheeks? Cutie-"

Harry kisses him, breaking him off in mid-word. "Forget it. Just stick with Evans."

"Make up your mind."

"I'm not having you call me 'cutie-pie' or any other ridiculous names. If you really object to using my name that much, I'd prefer Evans to 'dearie' or 'pet'. That makes me sound like your cat or something."

Draco chuckles. "I'm sure you'd make an adorable little cat," he says, and kisses him before Harry can object.

_You two are disgusting,_ the voice sneers, but Harry ignores it because he honestly doesn't care what it thinks.

*FPS*

"You look happy," Hermione remarks to Harry when she arrives at the Room of Requirement for their D.A. meeting two days later. "Does that mean the rumours are true? You're dating Malfoy?"

"Yes," Harry says with a sheepish grin. "I know you don't approve, but I like him, Hermione."

Hermione purses her lips, eying him. "If he hurts you—"

"You'll hex him so badly his own mother won't recognise him, I know."

"I'll hex him so badly he won't recognise himself, and then some more. Just... be careful, won't you?"

"You know I can look after myself, Hermione."

"I can still worry about you."

*FPS*

After a week thinking about it, Harry eventually writes home and says he's okay with the idea of James moving in with them. He is, mostly. He'll be more sure when he's visited James and seen for himself that he's changed.

*FPS*

Term ends two weeks later. Draco kisses him goodbye on the train and Harry steps onto the platform with a silly grin on his face that Sirius immediately notices.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

Harry flushes. "It's a boy," he admits.

"Anyone I know?"

"No," he lies, because he's pretty sure Sirius won't approve of him going out with Draco. "Just someone in the year above me. How are we getting home?"

Sirius eyes him. "Apparating. What house are they in?"

"None of your business."

"You're not going to tell me anything? Why the secrecy, kid?"

Harry shrugs. "It's mine."

Sirius smiles fondly. "Alright. He gives you any trouble though, you give me a call on the mirror and I'll come right up there and hex the snot out of him for you."

*FPS*

"Did Remus give you that?"

Sirius glances down at the bracelet about his wrist. It's a plain white-gold band, half a centimetre wide, with a millimetre of something glowing red running through the centre, looking almost like thin strands of thread.

"No, that's a tracking bracelet I had made."

"Tracking who?"

"You. Snape wanted his pendant back and I liked the idea, but I wasn't going to copy him completely."

Harry scowls. "Why does everyone insist on tracking me?"

"Because you have a terrible habit of disappearing."

"You know that won't track me if I make myself invisible."

"I do, but it will track you if you happen to get kidnapped."

"Do you expect me to get kidnapped?"

Sirius smiles, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling Harry against his side in a brief hug. "I've learnt not to expect anything but surprises from you."

*FPS*

_Your step-daddy isn't looking so hot_.

Harry has to agree with that. James is still pale with heavy shadows under his eyes and a gaunt look to his face. Harry thinks he actually looks worse than when he saw him before. But James greets him, Sirius, and Lupin with a small, tired smile instead of the distrustful glare he'd levelled at Harry last time, and they sit down with him.

*FPS*

"I want to apologise, Harry," James begins. "I'm sorry for calling you a bastard and Lily a Mudblood. I shouldn't have said those things."

"I know it's not really your fault."

James shakes his head. "I knew what I was saying. I knew it was hateful and I shouldn't have said it, and I'm sorry that I did. I mean that," he adds, correctly guessing Harry's scepticism even though he says nothing. "You said last time that I loved Lily and I told you I didn't, but that's not true. I did love her, and I loved you too, when you were a baby. You might not be mine, but you're still Lily's son and I'd like to get to know you."

"Did you mean it when you said you'd have given me to Snape?"

James doesn't answer immediately. He keeps fidgeting, fingers tapping against his thigh then against the arm of his chair then moving to fiddle with a loose thread in his robes. Harry wonders if he's restless because of them, because he's still crazy and only pretending otherwise, or just because that's that type of person he is.

"I'm not going to lie to you," James says eventually. "I don't know what I'd have done. I only found out Snape was your father the night the Dark Lord attacked Godric's Hollow and I never had time to really think it over before Lucius took me, but I know that I loved you back then and I like to think that even though I hate Snape, I'd have looked after you like you were my own anyway because you're Lily's boy and she'd have wanted me to."


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

Harry's woken on Christmas morning by Padfoot jumping on his bed and licking his face. He pushes the dog off, laughing, and yawns as he follows him downstairs. Beneath the heavily decorated Christmas tree in the living room is a pile of presents and Lupin is already seated on the sofa, dressing gown over his pyjamas and a steaming mug of coffee held in both hands. There's two more mugs on the coffee table, one with coffee, the other with hot chocolate. Harry takes the latter then, with a cheeky smirk, flicks his wrist and transfigures the other mug into a dog bowl. The coffee sloshes slightly but doesn't spill and he levitates it off the table and down to the floor in front of Padfoot, who looks at him balefully. Harry stares back innocently. Lupin chuckles into his own mug then grunts when Padfoot thumps his tail against his leg.

"I did tell you not to wake him up as Padfoot," Lupin says. Padfoot barks once and wags his tail, clearly deciding he considers it worth it, and bends his head to the bowl, lapping up the coffee.

*FPS*

The Assistant thinks Azkaban is a miserable place to spend Christmas. It's a miserable place in general, but the Dementors make the ache from his newly transferred Bond burn unpleasantly. He still hasn't the faintest idea who his new Master is but he knows they're still as far away from him now as they had been when he was in the Riddle House. They're in London, of that he's sure, because he'd felt the Bond easing when he broke into the Ministry; it'd taken huge amounts of effort to resist the desire to follow the tug in his chest all the way to his new master and get some relief from the burn, but Voldemort's orders had been clear and he was bound to obey them. So between that, the torrent of unpleasant memories the Dementors force him to relive, and the effort of keeping his long-haired disguise in place when his powers are being constantly drained, he decides that this Christmas definitely ranks as the worst day he's lived in his current timeline.

*FPS*

Harry, Sirius, and Lupin visit James that day. They take him a new robe as a gift from the three of them. It's impersonal but practical, and they hadn't known what else to get. He gives them hand-made Christmas cards.

"They're pretty crap," he says, "but I'm not allowed out and I wouldn't know what to get you for gifts anyway. They like us doing artsy stuff and pretty much insisted we make cards. Anyway you should probably just throw them out."

Sirius looks like he'd gladly do that and only a sharp look from Remus makes him mutter a thanks.

*FPS*

Sam joins them half an hour later, wishing them a Merry Christmas and introducing herself to Harry. The voice in his head falls abruptly silent, almost as if it's hiding from her.

"I'm here to discuss James' discharge. If everyone agrees, I think after the New Year will be a good a time as any."

"The sooner the better if you ask me," James says, but his eyes flick nervously between his friends and Harry.

"That's fine for us," Remus confirms, and James gives a small, relieved smile.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, given that you, Harry, spend much of the year at Hogwarts, I think it would be easiest if James left here after you've returned for the new term. It'll be easier to settle in with fewer people and allow him the chance to get used to his new environment before any major changes occur, as the leaving of one of his housemates would be."

"Okay. I go back on twelfth."

Sam nods. "Then is the thirteenth fine for you both?" she asks Sirius and Lupin, who glance at each other before nodding their agreement.

*FPS*

'You're scared of the psychiatrist,' Harry thinks when Sam's left and they're getting ready to leave.

_I'm a voice in your head; I don't feel fear._

'Liar. You're afraid of being around her because you think I might slip up and speak to you out loud, and that she'd figure you out.'

_Once again, I am a voice inside your head; I do not feel fear. But perhaps you're right that I do not want to be discovered... it's a sentiment you hold too. Were they to discover me, you would be changing places with your dearest step-daddy. Who knows, they might even give you his room._

*FPS*

As they're heading back down to the main reception, Harry's surprised to bump into Neville and his grandmother on the staircase. Neville's expression is less surprised and more horribly startled, like he desperately wishes they'd never seen each other.

"Hey, Neville. What're you doing here? You okay?"

Neville nods but he doesn't look okay. He won't meet Harry's gaze and he's face has turned an odd sort of reddish-purple.

"You must be Harry Evans," Neville's grandmother says, holding out a hand for him to shake. She's a formidable-looking old witch and Harry suddenly understands why Neville's nervous so much. "Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Oh. Um, thank you."

*FPS*

As Mrs Longbottom turns to Sirius and Lupin, Harry edges closer to Neville. "You sure you're okay? You don't look so great."

Instead of answering, Neville asks, still without looking at him, "Did you have another bad seizure?"

"No, we're not here because of me for once. We were just visiting James."

Neville looks at him then, almost surprised, and some of the colour fades from his face. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, looks down at his trainers, back up, and then blurts, "I'm visiting my parents too."

"I didn't know they were sick," Harry says, surprised.

"What's this?" says Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville stares at his trainers and shakes his head.

_My, my, this is interesting. I had wondered why he lived with his grandmother. Why did you never ask?_

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" Mrs. Longbottom says angrily. "You should be _proud, _Neville, _proud!_ They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

_Their sanity? Well look at that—you're not the only one with crazy parental figures._

"I'm not ashamed," says Neville very faintly. Before Mrs Longbottom can say anything else, Lupin steps forward.

"Mrs Longbottom, would you care to join Sirius and me in the cafe for a cup of tea?"

Mrs Longbottom looks startled at the offer. Sirius quickly nods.

"I think tea's a great idea. You two kids can catch up in a bit. You know where the cafe is, don't you?"

Harry nods, glancing between the three adults and Neville, who's still staring at the floor, and realising that they all know something he doesn't. Mrs Longbottom purses her lips as she stares at Neville, but nods to Lupin and the three adults head off.

*FPS*

"What's wrong with your parents?" Harry asks gently.

Neville takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily, and answers quietly, "Death Eaters tortured them into insanity when I was a baby. They were Aurors and the Death Eaters thought, after you defeated You Know Who, that my parents knew where he was. They tortured them to try and make them talk."

"I'm sorry," Harry says, knowing it's inadequate and useless but not knowing what else he can or should say. Growing up believing himself an orphan had been horrible, but he can't imagine how terrible it would be to grow up with your parents alive but insane, locked in a hospital for the rest of their lives.

"Don't tell Hermione," Neville says, still quiet, his tone not quite pleading but close.

"I won't," he promises. "I won't tell anyone."

*FPS*

"How's your dad?" Neville asks, clearly wanting to change the topic of conversation. Harry looks away, feeling a spark of guilt about lying to Neville after what he's just shared with him.

"It's okay," Neville adds, noticing his expression. "Never mind. We should go—"

"He's not—James isn't... he's not my dad."

"What do you mean?"

"My mum had an affair," he says, glancing at him then looking away again. "I found out the day after the third Triwizard task. It's the real reason I ran away. Remus told me that James was alive and then they told me he's not really my dad and I didn't know how to handle it."

"Do you know who your real dad is?"

Harry nods reluctantly. "He's a bastard. He didn't want me. He doesn't care, so I don't care about him. James is getting out of hospital after the New Year. He's moving in with us."

Neville nods, as unsure about how to react to this as Harry had been to Neville's revelation.

"Don't tell Hermione?" Harry asks and Neville gives a small smile.

"I won't."

*FPS*

Narcissa's divorce is finalised a week after the new year. As the sole care giver to Draco and given Lucius' life sentence, the courts award her the vast majority of the Malfoy family fortune, including the deeds to Malfoy Manor. Later that day, Draco finds her in the lounge, drunk on elf wine and weeping pitifully.

*FPS*

Harry spends most of the first evening back at Hogwarts sat on the sofa beside Draco, reading while Draco works on homework he didn't finish over the holiday. When he gets up a little after midnight to go to bed, Draco grabs his wrist and tugs him back down.

"Stay with me."

He sits without argument, opening the book again. Half an hour later, when the last student leaves the common room, Draco tosses down his quill, snatches Harry's book from him and drops it to the floor with enough carelessness to make Harry wince, and wraps his arms around Harry's waist, manoeuvring them until they're lying down, Harry pinned to the sofa by Draco's weight, Draco's head tucked into the crook of his neck, one leg tucked between both of Harry's, the other almost falling off the sofa which really isn't big enough for them.

"You okay?" Harry asks quietly, wrapping his arms around the other boy.

"My parents' divorce was finalised last week," Draco answers, voice muffled against Harry's neck.

"Oh."

"Mother took it pretty hard. She misses Father."

"What about you?"

Draco says nothing, just clings tighter.

*FPS*

Sam's not surprised when James changes his mind on the morning of the thirteenth, saying he's not ready to leave and wants to stay in the hospital. She spends an hour talking it through with him, mentioning all the things he'll miss out on if he stays, reminding him that they'll still have weekly sessions, and pointing out that no matter how much longer he remains, leaving the hospital won't get any easier.

*FPS*

Sirius is pacing when James and Sam eventually floo into the living room. He stops and grins at them as they wipe soot from their robes, and Lupin gets up from the couch to greet them and show them up to the third bedroom that's now James'.

*FPS*

Once he's settled in and had another moment of panic about wanting to get back to the hospital, Sam nods to Sirius, who draws James' wand from his pocket and hands it over with a grin.

"They found it in Malfoy's house. About time you had it back, Prongs."

James takes it hesitantly. A wand is something he's only been allowed to use on rare occasions in the past decade, given under Lucius' watchful gaze and permitted to cast only whatever new dark spell Lucius felt he needed to know. He'd only ever turned it on Lucius twice, vain attempts to overpower him that were easily stopped and viciously punished.

Now that he's holding it with the knowledge it won't be taken from him again, he wants to use it but all he can remember are those dark curses, as though every other spell he's ever learnt has been wiped from his memory. He knows he mustn't use them—knows it even if there's a tiny piece of him that whispers _to hell with that, Master taught you them so they're the only spells you _should _use_—so he ignores the desire to use magic, forces a smile onto his face, and tucks the wand into his pocket.

"Thanks."

*FPS*

The Assistant breathes a sigh of relief when he finds a note under his evening bowl of... whatever the hell it is they get fed... which reads simply, _Tonight_. He is more than ready to get out of this place.

*FPS*

Harry's kept his Occlumency shields up constantly ever since he learnt it, as Snape had instructed, but that evening his scar itches for the first time since the start of October and he feels a stab of emotion that's not his. He closes his eyes, shuts his mind down and forces it out. He doesn't want to know what Voldemort's feeling, doesn't want him inside his head.

*FPS*

The Assistant struggles, at first, to focus on a happy memory and produce a Patronus against the Dementors when the time comes, but eventually a glowing silver panther stalks the halls of Azkaban, easing the soul-sucking cold from the prisoners. He considers it briefly, the only representation he has of his Master. His Patronus always represents his Master; no matter how deeply he loves another person or how much he hates his Master, his Patronus always reflects them.

As ordered, he leaves the Dementors to Voldemort and moves through the prison, releasing his fellow Death Eaters from their cells. They crowd him, keeping close to the soothing glow of the Patronus as they head for the exit.

*FPS*

When they've returned to the Riddle House, the Assistant only half listens to Voldemort talk, praising the loyalty of the Death Eaters who served their time for him. They're dismissed with orders to rest and recover, all except Lucius and the Assistant.

"You have served me well, Assistant. This almost makes up for your mistake in October."

"I will continue to do whatever you need, my lord," he murmurs. "I wish to more than make up for my failure."

"I fully expect you will. You may leave us."

The Assistant hesitates. "My lord, I... may I beg of you, a slice of your graciousness... please allow me reprieve from the house. Forty-eight hours, that is all I ask."

"For?" Voldemort says coldly, dangerously.

The Assistant has to force a cheeky grin, has to falsify the over-confident manner that's earned him so many _Crucios_. "To indulge my baser desires, my lord. You know how I am and months have passed without even the briefest touch of another person's flesh. Even Bellatrix is starting to look appealing, crazy and prison starved as she is."

Voldemort turns away with a sneer. "You may take twenty-four hours."

*FPS*

Preston Yaxley wakes when his bedroom door opens, snatching his wand from under his pillow and fixing it on the blond-haired figure in simple black robes. The figure stands in the doorway, a shadow in the dark room, but Yaxley doesn't need to see his face to know who it is. He can feel it.

The Assistant sighs. "Well, I suppose it could be someone worse."

"What are you doing here?"

"You know why I'm here," the Assistant replies, moving into the room and closing the door behind him, heading straight over to the bed.

"The Dark Lord forbid you from knowing your master."

"The Dark Lord has not spent two months in Azkaban whilst enduring the ache of a fresh Bond," the Assistant replies, standing over him. "You've suffered it too, if not as badly as me."

Yaxley says nothing.

"Will you send me away?"

Again, Yaxley says nothing, but he slides his wand back under his pillow.

The Assistant lifts the covers but hardly glances at the naked form underneath before draping himself across Yaxley. Yaxley grunts slightly at the sudden weight but says nothing, instead rolling him off and turning on his side, letting the Assistant press against his front, one arm slung over Yaxley's side, hand splaying against his back, head tucked under Yaxley's chin. He forces a leg between Yaxley's until the taller man slings one leg over the Assistant's, tangling them together. The Assistant presses his face to the bare chest, inhaling deeply, trembling slightly as the ache he's felt for so long is finally eased slightly. Twenty four hours is not nearly enough to properly satisfy him, not even if Yaxley spent every minute of it lavishing him with intimate attention, but he will take what he can get, and both of them are soundly asleep within minutes.

*FPS*

Tonks and Kingsley bring the news to the Marauders' home. James spends the rest of the night curled on the sofa with Lupin on one side of him and Padfoot of the other, head in James' lap. Periodically he'll demand they check that the windows and doors are locked and that the various protective enchantments on the house are still in place. Neither Lupin or Sirius argue with him, even when it's five o'clock in the morning and they've all had a grand total of four sleep between them. James doesn't tell them that he's less scared of Lucius turning up at the house than he is of his own desire to go searching for the man.

*FPS*

The Ministry are slightly baffled as to why, alongside eleven of Lord Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters, the breakout had included the drunk but ultimately unremarkable wizard who'd attempted to break into the Minister's office on Hallowe'en. Indeed, the Aurors who'd arrested him had considered him a fool and a joke; he had, after all, attempted to break in with nothing but a set of Muggle lock picks. He was certainly nothing that anyone would have thought worthy of the attention of seasoned murderers.

But they're extremely interested in the reports from the remaining prisoners who claim that a blond haired man had assisted in the break out, moving through the prison with a silver panther at his side. His description matches that of the man who'd helped Peter Pettigrew escape Auror custody two years ago. Minister Fudge, still refusing to believe that Voldemort's back even now, is more than eager to pin the blame for the breakout on this mysterious 'Assistant'.

*FPS*

_We could hunt them down. While the Ministry continues to refuse to accept Voldemort's return, his army is growing. We could find them, kill them all. We could attack Voldemort himself. Who cares what Dumbledore says? He does not know our power; we can best whatever magic Voldemort has cast upon himself. You beat him when you were only a baby and wielding but a fraction of the power you have now. He cannot hope to survive us._

*FPS*

Harry ignores the voice, no matter how tempting it's suggestions might be. Draco hasn't said a word since reading the paper. He'd shook his head once when Harry tried talking to him and ignores everyone else completely. The entire Slytherin table is tense, though the rest of the school is its usual bustle of energy, talking of Quidditch and homework and gossip, most of them not yet aware of the danger that now walks free, not having read the paper yet. Harry glances over at the Gryffindor table and catches Hermione's gaze, her tense expression saying she's seen the story. At the teachers' table Dumbledore and McGonagall are deep in conversation, faces grave, and being malevolently glared at by Umbridge every so often.

*FPS*

The whispers and pointing that'd followed Harry at the start of the year renews itself with vigour, but it's no longer as hostile as it had been. The _Daily Prophet_ had made claims that the Assistant was to blame for the breakout, but the idea of an anonymous man no one's ever heard of breaking twelve people out of Azkaban is a stretch of the imagination. Harry doesn't doubt for a second that it's true, at least partially; Voldemort would certainly have used him to help with the breakout, but people are unsatisfied with the story and beginning to consider other possibilities—including Voldemort.

*FPS*

At the next D.A. meeting, a few of them tell Harry they believe him now. All of them work harder. Neville has a grimly determined expression on his face and works harder than anyone. He doesn't mention the unexpected meeting they had in Saint Mungo's and Harry follows his lead, keeping quiet as well.

*FPS*

Hermione asks Harry to stay behind when it's over. When everyone else has left, including Neville, they sit on some of the cushions they'd used when practising Stunning Spells, and Hermione says, "Harry, I think you ought to do an interview about what happened when Voldemort came back."

_Is she serious?_

"I've been thinking about it and I really think it'd help you. People would know what really happened that night and after all those Death Eaters escaped, they'd be more willing to believe it."

"No, they'd be more willing to believe I'm crazy."

_Well you are._

"They wouldn't. Right now all they have is second hand stories, Dumbledore's version of what happened, which to be honest really isn't much. All he says is Voldemort's back and it happened at the end of the Triwizard tournament. If people really know what happened—"

"People?" he repeats, getting up and stalking away. "Is that really what this is about? Or is it _you_ who wants to know what happened?"

"Well of course I do, but I mean it, Harry. Knowing what happened—"

"Won't help _anyone_, least of all me. If they knew what happened they'd only be more certain I'm crazy."

"Why?"

"Because—!"

_Because you are._

*FPS*

He turns back to look at her. "You want to know what happened that night? You really want to know?"

She worries at her lip, but nods, and he sits down and tells her the same confused, half-true story he'd related to Dumbledore and Sirius, missing details under the guise of post-seizure delirium and concussion from the head injury obtained during the Cruciatus.

"Now do you see? My story won't make anything clear; it'll only generate more confusion and more questions, and further the belief that I'm crazy."

Instead of responding, she throws herself forward and wraps her arms around his neck, so fast that she knocks him back and they end up laying on the floor, Hermione on top of him and still with her arms around his neck.

*FPS*

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she says when they've sat back up. "It must have been horrible."

"But you get it now, right? Why I can't tell anyone?"

She sighs and nods. "I do, you're right. Even if you remembered things more clearly, this Assistant man makes things so complicated."

Harry never said anything about breaking into the Ministry, but he'd told her and Neville about the Assistant being a Death Eater, just so they would know if they ever came face to face with him.

"It'd certainly be a lot easier if he decided which side he's really on," Harry agrees.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

The Assistant memory charms Yaxley at the end of his twenty-four hours, all of which they spend together, barely leaving the bed after the Assistant convinces him to call in sick to work. There's no sex—Yaxley makes it clear he has no interest in that, not with him at least—but they need the closeness to each other. The Assistant doesn't want to leave at the end of it, but he knows better than to disobey Voldemort so boldly, especially when he's not been completely forgiven for the fiasco with the prophecy.

*FPS*

He's called to the sitting room as soon as he gets into the house and knows instantly that Voldemort's mood is not to be tested.

"Lucius tells me that you would be aware if your Bond were transferred to a new Master," Voldemort starts, ignoring the Assistant's greeting.

"I am," the Assistant answers slowly, aware that there's no point feigning ignorance.

"Yet you neglected to inform me of this prior to your incarceration."

"My lord, I have no recollection of a transfer ritual. I can only assume you, or my Master on your orders, memory charmed me. It is not my place to question your reasons, therefore it seemed unnecessary to inform you I was aware of the transfer so long as I remained ignorant of my Master's identity."

*FPS*

Voldemort considers him for a moment. The Assistant is still on one knee, not having been told to rise after dropping to greet Voldemort. He keeps his head bowed, submissive.

"Lucius also claims you are capable of finding your Master."

"Lucius is correct, my lord. However, if you're asking whether I have, the answer is no."

He's glad one of his hands is pressed to his chest and the other hidden by the folds of his robes because they shake slightly at his lie and he wonders what order he's been given that he's close to resisting.

"Even to satisfy the... ache, I believe he said... that separation from your newly made Master brings?"

"Even then. Lucius is a Master, separated from his Slave for the first time and after fourteen years close proximity; he will not be aware that the ache of it can be partially satisfied by the indulgence of others. The carnal pleasures I seek with whores are solely for that purpose. Well, mostly for that purpose. I don't deny I take great pleasure purely from the act itself."

*FPS*

Voldemort keeps him waiting for longer as he decides whether or not to believe him, but eventually dismisses the Assistant with a harsh warning of the punishment the Assistant can expect if he seeks out his Master.

"Of course, my lord, but if I may—you should know that if you put him in the same room as me, or even in the same house, I will know him instantly and such proximity will be too much for me to resist submitting myself to him."

"Noted. Now leave me."

*FPS*

Lupin's out on a mission for the Order when Sirius hears a smash from the bathroom and an angry shout. He gets out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on as he leaves, tying it around him and moving down to the bathroom. The door's slightly ajar and he pushes it open.

"James?"

He's stood over the sink, one towel wrapped around his waist and another slung over his shoulders, and his hands are clenched on the rim of the sink, the knuckles of his right hand bloody and the mirror smashed. His jaw's covered in shaving foam that's steadily turning pink from the blood dripping from the cut across his cheek and a bloody straight razor sits in the sink.

"You need any help?"

"No," James snarls, "I don't need any fuck-" He breaks himself off, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, hands gripping the sink tighter, and then, after a moment, he sighs angrily. "Yes," he mutters. "Please."

*FPS*

Sirius nips back to his bedroom to grab his wand and returns to find James sat dejectedly on the edge of the bath tub, still dripping blood. Sirius heals his face first then his knuckles, then repairs the mirror and cleans away the blood before picking up the razor and holding it out to James. James glares at it.

"Alright," Sirius says, taking it back. "I thought you preferred those weird plastic Muggle ones Lily introduced you to anyway."

"I did, but I've probably forgotten how to use those, too."

"Why not use the spell?"

James looks at him sceptically. "I might not remember how to use a razor, but I remember almost dying in seventh year because I messed up that spell so badly I slashed my throat."

"Oh yeah," Sirius says, smiling reminiscently. "Peter screamed like a girl and fainted when he saw all the blood."

James snorts. "He was always kind of pathetic like that. Why were we ever friends with him?"

"Because we were stupid kids and you liked the attention."

"Yeah, I guess I did," he says, rubbing at his face then scowling when he gets shaving foam on his hand. Sirius gestures with the razor.

"Did you want me to...? Or I can use the spell. I've never slit anyone's throat with it."

James hesitates, unsure if his pride is more important than his desire for a clean shaven face, but eventually sighs. "If you don't mind using the razor..."

*FPS*

"Lucius always did it."

Sirius pauses, eyes flicking from James' jaw to his eyes, but his friend is staring firmly at the sink so Sirius lowers his gaze and continues working.

"He had this thing about grooming me. Shaving, cutting my hair, even tending my nails. If he wasn't such a rich, self-entitled pureblood, he'd probably have become a beautician."

"Of the flamboyantly camp variety? Because that I can imagine."

James almost smiles at that.

"What about in the hospital?"

James snorts. "They wouldn't let a straight razor within fifty feet of the ward. You had an orderly do the spell or you went without, unless you'd earned the privilege of using a Muggle razor, but even then you did it under watch. I never did earn the privilege but I didn't want to."

"Why not?"

"You have to ask?"

"Ye- oh, right, Muggle razors. I guess you objected to that."

"Just a bit."

*FPS*

They fall silent as Sirius moves onto James' throat, running the blade over his skin with slow, careful strokes. He generally prefers using the Shaving Spell—it's quicker, less risky in his opinion, and gave a smoother shave—but he knew how to use a razor. He's never done it on someone else though and it takes him a little longer than normal, keeping things slow to be sure he doesn't cut James up anymore than the other man had already managed to do.

*FPS*

Sirius only notices the scar when they're done and James is drying his face. He catches only a glimpse in the mirror at first, then James lowers the towel and Sirius sees the whole thing. James notices his eyes go wide then realises where Sirius' gaze is focused and slings the towel over his shoulder, jaw clenching as he turns away, but Sirius grabs him and pulls him around, jerking the towel away to look properly. James keeps his head turned away, jaw still clenched and a humiliated flush rising in his cheeks. Carved into the skin along the underside of his left collarbone are four words: _Property of Lucius Malfoy_.

*FPS*

"Son of a bitch."

"Sirius—"

"I'm going to fucking kill that piece of shit licking—"

"Sirius, shut up!"

James snatches the towel back from him, tossing it over his shoulder to hide the words. "Just... forget about it."

"Forget it? James, that's bastard's carv-"

"I know what he's done," James interrupts angrily. "I was there, remember? I don't need you pointing it all out to me."

He pushes past Sirius, stalking out the room and down to his own bedroom. Sirius runs both hands through his hair then slams his fist into the mirror, shattering it again and bloodying his own knuckles. It doesn't make him feel any better.

*FPS*

He finds James in their small garden later that day, sat in a garden chair and watching a couple of small birds flitting between the branches of the tree just past the garden fence, uncaring of the cold breeze and light drizzle. Sirius leans against the frame of the back door, folding his arms over his chest and remarking, "I'm pretty sure we don't own any garden chairs."

"Transfigured a rock," James replies without looking at him. His fingers tap against the arm of his chair and his foot jiggles restlessly. It's one of the little things that reminds Sirius on a daily basis that this man isn't the same person he used to know. James had never been restless; energetic and full of life, sure, but not restless.

*FPS*

"I'm sorry about earlier," Sirius says after a minute of slightly awkward silence.

"It's fine."

Sirius nods. James still hasn't looked at him.

"We could go into Coleford town," he suggests lightly, "and get you a Muggle razor if you like."

James shakes his head. "I'm not sure I'm ready for crowds yet. Maybe some other time."

"Alright. I'm going to make lunch; you want anything?"

*FPS*

Harry's wary when Hermione asks him to stay behind after another D.A. meeting, wondering what she's going to ask him now, but Neville's there too this time and neither of them have that guilty, hesitant expression they get when they know he won't like what they have to say.

"Harry, we were wondering," Hermione begins, "whether you know how to do a Patronus Charm."

_Technically,_ the voice says snidely, _you do, but we both know that's not quite enough, is it?_

"Why?"

"Well, with the Dementors abandoning Azkaban, it'd be really good if we could learn it."

_What are you going to do? Lie? Tell them you don't know it? Or dare you admit that you're such a sad little boy that you can't produce one? I can just imagine the pitying looks on their faces now._

So could Harry, but he also knows if he says he couldn't do it, they'd want to know why when he could do any other spell he attempted.

"If you don't know it, we have the incantation and wand movements," Neville tells him, holding up a book he'd pulled from one of the shelves. "You could try it."

_Oh, please do. Let them see you fail. It'd be good, you know. They should know you're just as human as they are, just as flawed and prone to failure. Oh... but I suppose they'll want to know why it fails for you, and Hermione's clever. She'll figure out you're too miserable to—_

*FPS*

Harry draws his wand, moving aside and ignoring the voice in his head. He's not miserable. He's not a sad little boy anymore. He's got a godfather who loves him, he's got Remus, he's got his friends, a home, a boyfriend. He has happy memories now, not just fun ones that were tinged with darkness.

But despite Sirius and Remus, despite his friends and boyfriend, despite his home, the memory he fixes on this time isn't any of them. It's the rush of pure, utter joy that'd filled him when he learnt he'd get a false eye to replace his blind one. The feeling had lasted days and just thinking about it is enough to make him smile.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

*FPS*

"Oh, wow!" Hermione breathes, staring at the gleaming silver fox. "Oh, Harry, it's _gorgeous_."

Harry grins, watching the fox bound around the room. "I think it'd be a good idea to learn them."

"Definitely," Neville agrees.

*FPS*

As always since October, Snape answers Voldemort's summons with a knot in his stomach. As a mercy to Snape, Voldemort had granted Harry clemency whilst he strived to obtain the prophecy, but he'd made no further comments on his plans for Harry since the prophecy had been stolen from the Ministry. The Order works under the assumption Voldemort wants Harry dead, but Snape still dreads the day he'll hear confirmation from Voldemort himself.

He appears in the ground floor hall and immediately jerks aside as a green plastic ball the size of a football almost drops onto his head. It halts just millimetres above where his head had been, hovering in mid-air. He stares at it. It's transparent and inside is a terrified looking rat with a silver paw. When he looks up, it's to see the Assistant looking over the railing of the second floor.

*FPS*

"Sorry, Severus. Didn't mean to almost hit you," he calls down with a grin.

Snape doesn't think much of the Assistant, but under Dumbledore's orders he's to try and befriend the man and learn what he can from him. "Dare I ask what you're doing?"

"Exercising Wormtail. Care to join me?"

"Delightful though I'm sure that is," he drawls, "I've been summoned."

"Kinda figured that. I meant afterwards."

"I have to return to the school."

"Pity. Maybe some other time."

Snape hears Wormtail squeak wildly as the ball zooms back up to the Assistant and he turns away to the sitting room.

*FPS*

The Assistant's sat on the stairs between the ground and first floors by the time Snape leaves the sitting room. He's released Pettigrew, who'd scurried away red faced and unhappy, and he rises when the sitting room door opens, opening his mouth to speak but then saying nothing when he sees the tense set of Snape's shoulders.

"He wants to see you," Snape says, tone unnecessarily sharp, eyes cold as they glance at the Assistant briefly before he Disapparates with a crack.

*FPS*

James' first Order meeting is tense. He sits between Lupin and Sirius, drumming his fingers against the table and flicking his eyes from person to person, looking at each of them like they're all potential threats and he's trying to work out who's the most dangerous. He says nothing, but listens to everyone else with the same intensity that he looks at them with.

*FPS*

"You alright, Prongs?"

James nods to Sirius. The meeting's over, people slowly leaving, and he relaxes a little more with each person that exits the kitchen.

"You know you don't have to come next time if it's too much for you."

James glances at him only briefly before continuing to watch people leave. "Got to get used to it sometime," he mutters.

"Yeah, but it's only been a couple of weeks since you got out of the hospital. No one will—"

"I'm fine," James interrupts snappishly.

Sirius nods stiffly. "Fine."

*FPS*

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Sirius turns from the sink, lifting his glass of water to drink a few mouthfuls and let James stand uncomfortably for a few moments before he nods. "I just want to help you as much as I can, Prongs."

"I know," James sighs. "And I'm sorry I keep snapping, it's just... it's hard, Padfoot."

*FPS*

The Assistant almost feels cheerful as he sneaks into Hogwarts. He's got his cloak back, he's being sent on an easy mission, and afterwards he gets forty-eight hours which he intends to spend with Yaxley, even if that means following him invisibly into work for a couple of days. He honestly doesn't care as long as they're near each other.

It make him tremor to go there. Voldemort might have made it clear that he didn't want the Assistant seeking out Yaxley, but as he'd not expressly forbidden it the Assistant can still go. It's a loophole and the magic of the Bond knows it, but he _needs _his Master and Yaxley doesn't send him away so the Assistant will continue to seek him out as long as he can.

*FPS*

Harry comes back to his dorm after classes on the last Friday of January to find a plain white box on his pillow. It's about six inches long, three inches wide, and three inches tall, encircled with black ribbon with a small card tucked under it. He pulls the card out and flips it open to read, _For Harry Evans, to be opened in private._

*FPS*

_Oh, God,_ the voice moans unhappily. _He's leaving gifts on your pillow. That's sickening. Were I more than a voice in your head, I might actually vomit._

Harry frowns, climbing onto his bed and pulling the curtains shut. That's not Draco's handwriting.

"Hell of a time for a wank!" Cid calls. "Dinner's soon!"

"Not wanking," Harry calls back, tugging at the ribbon. It falls away and he wiggles the lid off the box, then feels his chest tighten. There's another card inside, this one black but with the Dark Mark etched on it in green. Dreading what might be underneath, he carefully picks it up, and then gives a surprised cry.

"Merlin, Harry, keep it down. We don't wanna hear."

Harry doesn't respond. Lying in the box, stiff and very obviously dead, is a rat with a single silver paw.

_Well at least it's not a vomit-inducing romantic gift._

*FPS*

He yanks the curtains open just enough to dig in his drawer for the two-way mirror, ignoring Cid, and jerks them shut again, Wishing for them not to open to anyone else and putting up Silencing Charms so no one will hear him.

"Sirius! Sirius Black! Sirius, please, it's urgent. Even if you're... with Remus, I need to talk to you _now_."

The surface of the mirror ripples but instead of Sirius it's James' face who looks out.

"Sirius is in the bathroom," he says. "He'll be out in just a sec. What's wrong?"

"I can't—I'm sorry, James, it needs to be Sirius."

James nods. "It's fine. I understand. I just thought I was going mad for a minute, hearing voices. He's coming now. Sirius? Harry's on your two-way mirror."

*FPS*

"Everythi-"

"Sirius, it's Wormtail."

Sirius' face instantly turns serious. "What about him?"

"He's dead. I got—"

"Dead? How do you know? Did you have another dream?"

"No, he's here. I just got back from classes and there was this box on my bed and when I opened it, Wormtail's inside, as a rat."

"You're sure it's him?"

"It's got a silver paw and this card came with it." He picks up the card with the Dark Mark on, turning it over to show him and as he does sees that there's writing on the back.

"Shit," Sirius swears. "Harry—"

"There's a message on the back."

"What message?"

He reads it straight from the card. It's not signed, but it doesn't need to be.

*FPS*

_I hope one day you'll replace the gap this leaves in my ranks. It's a position far more worthy of you than this rat._


	49. Chapter 49

******A/N:** I was recently made aware of why people want character death warnings, something I hadn't previously understood, and realised that I never warned for that when I started posting this fic. Though I expect it would be obvious given that this is an alternative version of the books, I shall mention it now anyway: There are Major Canon Character Deaths in this fic.

* * *

******Warning:** Self-harm.

**Chapter 49**

"Go to Snape," Sirius orders.

"What? Why him?!"

"He's a spy for the Order. Show him all of it—the rat, the card, the whole lot. He'll pass it on to Dumbledore."

"Shouldn't I just go straight to Dumbledore?"

"No, you can't risk drawing Umbridge's attention. Go to Snape, right now."

*FPS*

"Professor!"

Snape pauses on his way to the Great Hall, turning to see Harry running down the corridor towards him, a small white box clutched in his hands.

"I need to—"

Snape lunges forwards and grabs Harry as his body stiffens suddenly and he falls , the box slipping from his fingers to hit the floor and fall open. Something falls out of it but Snape ignores it for the moment, carefully lowering Harry to the floor as he seizes. He checks his watch to keep an eye on how long it lasts and only then notices the dead rat that fell from the box. He scowls, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief and wondering why on earth Harry had been running around with a dead rat, then notices the silver paw. He picks it up hurriedly, looking closer to assure himself it wasn't just a trick of the light, then hurriedly wraps it up and shoves it in his pocket and grabs the two halves of the box just as Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Theo Nott, and Tracey Davis turn into the corridor.

*FPS*

"You guys go on, I'll catch up."

Pansy doesn't look pleased at Draco's words and shoots a scowl at Harry, but she follows after Tracey and Theo.

"You can go to dinner, sir," Draco says, crouching by Harry. "I can look after him now."

"That won't be necessary," Snape replies, a sharp bite to his voice. "He was about to tell me something when it happened. You needn't stay, Mr Malfoy."

"I want to though," he says, noticing a card on the floor and bending to pick it up. He frowns at the odd message written on it then turns it over and inhales sharply. Snape rises, snatching the card from him, his face turning white as he sees the Dark Mark on one side and the message on the other.

*FPS*

Snape gets Harry up and into his office the moment he's coherent enough to do so. He orders Draco to wait in the hallway and slams the door shut, guiding Harry into a chair and taking the box and the rat from his pocket and setting them on the desk.

"Would you care to explain this?"

Harry looks at them, confused for a minute, then straightens. "It was on my bed when I got back from classes, on my pillow. I opened it and that was inside and a card—"

Snape holds the card up, tucked between two fingers.

"Sirius said I should bring it straight to you so you can take it to Dumbledore without suspicion."

"Black told you that? How?"

"We have these two-way mirrors. He gave me one so I can talk to him if I ever need." He swallows thickly, then asks, "It's a trick... right? It's not real, is it? I mean, he can't... I'm the Boy Who Lived. He wants to kill me."

_Apparently not. I wonder what's changed. I hope you realise this warrants further investigation. You had better not ignore this like everything else._

*FPS*

Instead of answering him, Snape puts the card down and re-wraps his handkerchief around the rat before putting it in the box. "Draco Malfoy is stood outside. When you seized, the box dropped and the card fell out. He saw it before I did and picked it up."

"Shit."

Snape doesn't admonish him. "You should be wary of how much you tell him and, though I hope to never have to say this again, you should consider wiping his memory of this. I don't know how much contact he has had with his father, or what Lucius might have told him if they are in contact, but the less he knows of this the better, no matter how close you might have grown lately."

"Draco can keep a secret."

"For how long? He may have kept your identity secret but circumstances are a great deal more different now. Do you expect him to keep your secrets when his father contacts him?"

"Yes," Harry says stubbornly.

_Sure about that?_

"Then you're a fool. Whatever Draco might feel for you now will not trump his loyalty to his father. Lucius is the Dark Lord's most favoured Death Eater right now; your relationship with Draco—"

"My relationship with Draco is none of your business, _sir_," Harry says pointedly, getting to his feet and glaring at Snape.

"It will do you no good."

"Screw you! You don't get to tell me what's good for me! Only parents do that!"

"I am your parent!" Snape snaps.

Several of the jars that decorate the shelves explode, sending glass and wet, slimy things of indeterminate nature flying across the room.

*FPS*

The door bursts open and Draco rushes in, sliding to a halt when he sees the mess. A piece of glass hit Harry across the face, slicing his cheek, and there's several small shards buried in the back of Snape's hand, which he'd used to cover his face.

"You're not," Harry says, quietly furious. "Don't ever dare try and claim that you are."

Snape says nothing. Draco glances between them, wondering if he should have just stayed in the corridor. Harry turns away from Snape, going to Draco and taking his hand, not looking back as he steps out the room.

*FPS*

"What was all that about?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

Draco stops and pulls Harry about to face him. The cut on his cheek is still bleeding and Draco draws his wand, tapping it to the wound and murmuring a spell, watching it seal up to leave behind only the blood that'd already escaped, and another spells siphons that off, leaving his face clean and undamaged.

"You know healing spells?"

"Evans, please. My mother was a healer; of course I know basic healing spells." He pockets his wand and lifts his hand to cup Harry's cheek. "You blew those jars up, didn't you? You were angry. Why?"

"He just said something I didn't like. It doesn't matter, Draco."

"You were injured. That matters."

"And you fixed me, so now it doesn't," he says gently, leaning forward to kiss him. Draco moans softly, hand slipping around to cup the back of Harry's head, but then he makes a small noise of protest and breaks it.

"What about the card?"

Harry sighs, dropping his chin and turning his head away slightly. "That wasn't why I blew up the jars."

"Okay, but... was it serious? Was that really from the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, but it's not serious. It's just a trick or something, some way to make me walk up to him and let him kill me, as if I'm that stupid."

"It said something about a rat. What—"

"Don't, Draco. Please don't ask me about this. It needs to be one of those things we don't talk about, okay?"

"Alright," he says softly.

*FPS*

It's Lupin who finds James lying on his bed, eyes shut, shirtless, and dripping blood from a long, deep cut along the underside of his collarbone. As he rushes in, drawing his wand to heal the wound, James opens his eyes and looks at him, completely calm.

"James, what..." he trails off, noticing the straight razor on the floor, the blade bloody. "Did you do that to yourself?"

James nods.

"_Why?_"

"I had to scratch it out."

"Scratch what out? Let me heal—"

"No!" James sits up, grabbing Lupin's wrist and twisting it until the wand slips from Lupin's fingers. His face is no longer calm, eyes now slightly panicked, and the movement sends more blood sliding down his chest. "If you heal it, it won't scar."

"Why do you want to it to scar?" Lupin asks, but then he remembers a conversation he'd had with Sirius a few weeks ago, and he looks at the injury a little closer, seeing the scarred words underneath the blood.

"I'm not his."

Lupin doesn't know what to say to that. He tugs his arm and James lets go.

"At least let me clean it up and bandage it," Lupin says, then when James draws back he adds, "It'll still scar, but it'll stop it getting infected."

James hesitates, then nods. Lupin bends to pick up his wand then gets to his feet. "I'm going to call Sam, as well. She needs to know about this."

James just nods again.

*FPS*

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend in a couple of weeks."

"I've heard."

"It's on Valentine's Day."

"I know."

"So you'll be going with me."

Harry tilts his head back, ignoring the retching noises the voice is making in protest to anything as sentimental as Valentine's Day. He's on a cushion on the floor, a book in his lap while he's leant against Draco's legs with Draco's fingers combing through his hair. "That's very insistent of you."

"You're not going with anyone else."

"I'm not going at all."

"Why not?" Draco demands, hands going still. "It's Valentine's Day; you have to come with me."

"My Hogsmeade privileges were revoked when I snuck off in October. I'm not allowed in for the rest of the year."

"Oh," Draco says, calming down and continuing to play with his hair. "Damn."

*FPS*

Neville fidgets nervously.

"Hermione, I was wondering if... you wanted to maybe... gotoHogsmeadewithme? On Valentine's Day?"

"Of course," Hermione says without looking up from her Herbology homework. "We always go together, you don't have to ask."

"Right," Neville says, nodding. "But, um... I meant... _together_ together. On a... a date."

"Oh!" She looks up at him in surprise. "Oh, I... yes," she says, smiling. "I would love to go on a date with you, Neville."

*FPS*

Cid whoops as he enters the dorm a week before Valentine's Day, drawing looks from his roommates.

"Guess who's got a date next weekend? Moi!"

"With who? Your right hand?" Tyler mocks, but Cid just grins.

"Tabitha."

Tyler scrambles up from his bed, staring at Cid. "No way. She thinks you're a vulgar and crude. Jia told me so."

"Jia told you wrong. She agreed to go out with me on Valentine's Day."

*FPS*

On Saturday Harry goes to breakfast with Tyler, after they've watched Cid give Tabitha an entire bouquet of roses in the common room. Tyler's still sceptical about Tabitha liking Cid, but she looks pleased with the roses and the two of them go up to the Great Hall together, Cid turning to shoot a triumphant grin at them. Harry hasn't seen Draco, but a quick glance through the wall of their dorm, which neighboured the fifth years', shows him taking his time getting dressed after his shower.

*FPS*

After they've eaten, Harry waves goodbye to Tyler, who's going to Hogsmeade with Alex Stone ("Not on a date," Tyler said pointedly. "Just as friends."), and heads back towards the dungeons. He still hasn't seen Draco properly yet, but less then a minute after he's entered the dorm there's a knock at the door.

"Grab a cloak," Draco orders when he comes in, carrying his Firebolt. "We're going flying."

"I'm not meant to—"

"Fly unsupervised, I know. But," he says, sauntering further into the room and leaning against the post of Harry's bed, "that would only apply when you're on a broom yourself. Today, you're flying with me on my broom." He pauses, then adds, "That's not a euphemism by the way."

_Terrible one if it was,_ the voice mutters.

*FPS*

Harry expects to be sitting behind Draco on the broom, but Draco has him sit in front and wraps his arms around him to clutch the broom handle.

"I'll have a harder time catching you if you're behind me," he points out. "Much safer to keep you in front of me."

Harry agrees with that, but he's also pleased to be sat in front. He likes being wrapped in Draco's arms and as the smaller of the two, it's easily done and not awkward or uncomfortable once they're both settled in place.

*FPS*

They can't fly on the Quidditch pitch as the Gryffindor team have it booked for the day to practice, but Draco and Harry spend a little while hovering to watch them. Fred and George's replacement Beaters aren't half as good and the new Keeper, although better than Ron, appears to be trying to take over captaining duties as well. Angelina Johnson, the real captain, is very clearly annoyed.

"They've got no hope in their match against Hufflepuff," Draco says happily.

*FPS*

When it starts raining, Draco suggests they head back inside but Harry's enjoying himself so they stay out until lunch, by which time they're both soaked to the bone and shivering. Draco tries to pull him straight inside but Harry stops him before they reach the doors, pulling him close for a kiss.

"Evans, we're getting wet."

"We're already wet, Malfoy. A little more water won't hurt us."

"You can kiss me inside when we're dry."

"But I want to kiss you in the rain."

Draco rolls his eyes but obliges, wrapping his free arm around Harry's waist and pulling him in, their lips meeting as Harry wraps both arms around Draco's neck and presses their bodies close.

*FPS*

His day, Harry discovers later, goes a lot better than Cid's. Tyler's doubts about Tabitha had turned out to be correct. Their date had been nothing more than an attempt to make Michael Jamison, from Ravenclaw, jealous and it had worked. Jamison had seen them kissing in Madam Puddifoots, a little tea shop off the main High Street, and had promptly stormed in and hexed Cid. Tabitha had decided this was a clear display of Jamison's undying love and left with him, uncaring of the fact that Cid was still covered in boils.

Cid's mood only gets worse when he finds out his sister Layla had received a Valentine's card from Dennis Creevey. He storms over to the Gryffindor table in the middle of dinner and pulls Dennis up, threatening him with all manner of jinxes if Dennis even thinks about touching Layla, and subsequently gets thrown in detention by Umbridge and loses ten house points.

*FPS*

Draco's right about the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match: Hufflepuff win 230-60 because Cormac McLaggen, the Gryffindor Keeper, spends so much time shouting at the other players about what to do that he neglects to properly guard the goals. By the end of the match, Angelina Johnson is almost in tears.

*FPS*

The rest of the D.A. is more than eager to learn the Patronus charm, but there's a lot of disappointment when, by the end of their first session trying, no one's managed to produce a corporeal one. Hermione's had come closest, taking the vague shape of something furry.

*FPS*

Harry finds out about Hermione and Neville only when he's following them out of the Room of Requirement and notices Neville slip his hand into Hermione's and smile at her the way Draco smiles at Harry.

"Are you two going out?" he blurts, and they pause.

"Yes," Hermione says with a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Since when?"

"Valentine's Day," Neville answers.

"That's alright then. I thought it might have been longer," he says when they look confused, "and that you hadn't told me."

"We did sort of want to see how long it would take you to notice," Hermione tells him. "You can be incredibly oblivious sometimes."

Harry starts to deny it then remembers that he'd apparently been the only person in Slytherin not to realise Draco fancied him or that Tyler was making out with half the student body.

"Yeah, well," he grumbles good-naturedly, then smiles. "I'm happy for you guys."

*FPS*

At the end of February, Harry finds an envelope on his pillow. On the front are the words, _For Harry Evans, to be opened in private_. Inside are several newspaper clippings—but not from the _Daily Prophet_. All of them are from Muggle newspapers and contain stories of violence against children, abused kids like him and a few who have been killed by their guardians. There's another card with the Dark Mark on as well.

_This is what I strive to eradicate, destroying monsters who would abuse and kill their children. You have suffered at the hands of Muggles who would call themselves your family; join me and you could have your revenge. You can show them the true power of magic and prove why wizardkind must take their rightful place as the rulers of this world._

*FPS*

_It's not like he's completely wrong,_ the voice says thoughtfully as Harry takes the envelope and its contents to Snape. _Wizards are better than Muggles. You admitted as much to the diary in your first year._

'I don't think they should be killed.'

_Perhaps not all of them, but you cannot honestly say you would not like Vernon Dursley to die. You should at least admit to yourself that while you may not approve of Voldemort's methods, neither do you disagree with his opinions._

'I don't hate them, I just don't really care about them. And he hates Muggleborns as well. He'd happily kill Hermione, he happily killed my mum, and he tried to kill me. Whatever I do or don't think of Muggles, I'd never join him.'

*FPS*

Snape's jaw clenches as he looks through the envelope's contents and reads the card.

"Is it genuine? Does he really want _me_ working for him?"

"You're an incredibly powerful young wizard. He respects that."

"He tried to kill me. More than once. Why has he suddenly changed his mind?"

Snape puts the articles and card back in the envelope. "Because of the prophecy."

"But the prophecy says I'm the only one who can defeat him; why would that make him want to _not_ kill me?"

Snape's gaze flicks to his office door at the sound of footsteps and muffled voices outside and he takes the envelope from his desk, slipping it into his pocket and getting to his feet. "This is neither the time nor place for this discussion."

"Then when and where is?"

Snape considers him for a while before saying slowly, "That depends on how willing you are to speak with me. Dumbledore would prefer not to have any further discussions with you while Dolores Umbridge remains in the school."

"I want to know."

Snape nods. "I assume you remember how to access my quarters; come tonight. The password has not changed since you were last there. Do not let yourself be seen leaving the common room nor entering my rooms."

*FPS*

It's almost one in the morning before the common room empties. He watches through the walls as Montague goes to the bathroom before finally going to the seventh year dorm and getting into bed. Only then does Harry put his book aside, cloak himself in invisibility and slip out the common room, moving silently through the halls to Snape's quarters and letting himself in.

Snape's rooms haven't changed in the slightest in two and half years, and once again Harry has to wonder why he would ever choose to spend his summers in the cramped little house on Spinner's End when he could permanently reside in his more spacious quarters here, which has a nice black leather sofa and armchair, better lighting, access to the school's house elves, and his personal potions lab.

*FPS*

"The Dark Lord does not know the entire prophecy," Snape tells him. "He only knows it speaks of a child born at the end of July to parents who thrice defied him."

"Me."

"Yes, but there were two children who it could have been before the Dark Lord attacked Godric's Hollow: you and Longbottom."

Harry can't hide his surprise at that. "Neville? Really?"

"His parents defied the Dark Lord three times, as did Lily and Potter. It is for that reason that the Dark Lord no longer believes that you are the child of which the prophecy speaks. He knows Potter is not your real father."

Harry's face pales. "How?"

"Potter himself. He told Lucius Malfoy a great deal during his imprisonment and Lucius has passed that information onto the Dark Lord. Given that I have not defied the Dark Lord, he has decided that the prophecy refers to Longbottom rather than you, despite your power. Subsequently, he now desires you working for him rather than dead. Or so he is claiming."

*FPS*

"Does Neville know?"

"No."

"Why not? Voldemort wants him dead; he should know that."

"_Do not say the Dark Lord's name_," Snape says harshly. Harry narrows his eyes.

"Why? Fear of a name only increases fear of a thing itself and I'm not going to be afraid of Voldemort."

"Then you're an idiot," Snape spits. "The Dark Lord may want you in his ranks right now, but he will not hesitate to kill you if you stand against him."

"Voldemort's the idiot for ever thinking I'd work for him. He killed my mother, he tried to kill me. If I wanted revenge on my uncle I wouldn't need _him_ to take it, and he can talk crap about Muggles all he likes, I'm not going to condone killing them. One of my best friends is Muggleborn. I'll never stand with people who hate her just because of her parents."

"And when it's her life he threatens as he asks for your loyalty? Will you continue to stand against him if he threatened your friends or your godfather and promised to let them live only if you joined him?"

"Are you trying to convince me to join him?" Harry asks angrily. "Sirius said you're a spy but maybe it's the Order you're spying on, not Voldemort, and this is another ploy of his to make me join him."

Snape leans forward, slamming his palm down on the coffee table between them, staring harshly at Harry. "I would rather die than see you with a Dark Mark on your arm," he snarls.

*FPS*

_I do believe he actually means it. He might just care for you after all._

"Shut up," Harry snaps.

Snape's face twists from angry to furious. He stands, moves around the coffee table to grab Harry by the arm and haul him to his feet. "I have answered your queries. Get out."

Harry doesn't tell him he hadn't been talking to him, just jerks his arm from Snape's grip, turns himself invisible and stalks out the door.

*FPS*

Harry wants to tell Neville that Voldemort wants to kill him, but he can't without mentioning the prophecy and how he came to know about it, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to tell someone that there's a homicidal madman out to get them. He suddenly understands why Dumbledore had never told him anything.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

_So what do we think? Is your daddy a spy for the Order or for the Dark Lord? Much that you dislike him, I am leaning towards the Order. He might be a terrible daddy and teacher, but he's never shown any of the cruelty that one expects from Death Eaters. Mind you, neither did the Assistant and look at him. Of course, his loyalty is just as questionable. Perhaps it's you. The Assistant works for the Dark Lord but he makes exceptions for you; perhaps it's the same for your da-_

"He's not my fucking daddy!"

*FPS*

The rest of the class stare at him. Umbridge breaks the silence.

"Detention, Mr Evans. I will not have foul language and outbursts in my classroom."

*FPS*

"What was that about?" Tyler mutters to Harry.

"Nothing."

"Nothing made you have an outburst? Come on. Who were you talking about?"

"No one. Just drop it."

Tyler turns back to his book, but his expression says the topic's far from over. Harry inhales deeply and stares at his own book without seeing it. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down and focus on what he needs to do.

All of you forget what I said, he Wishes silently. Believe you heard me say "I'm fucking bored". Forget that I said anything about my father.

He doesn't relax until class lets out and Cid says, "Merlin, Harry, you're fucking crazy. I know those lessons suck, but what the hell made you go shouting about it?"

Harry merely shrugs.

*FPS*

At eight o'clock that evening Harry arrives at Umbridge's office and takes a seat at the small table beside her desk when she tells him to.

"You'll be writing lines this evening," she says, gesturing to the piece of parchment and quill on the table. "You will write, _I will not use inappropriate language_."

"How many times?"

"As many as it takes to sink in. You may begin."

"You haven't given me any ink."

"You won't need it."

He picks up the quill, sets it to the paper and begins writing, surprised to see red ink instead of the usual black. As soon as he's written the sentence out, pain lashes across his hand and he looks at it to see the words written on his skin like they've been cut in with a scalpel, then fading away to leave the skin red but smooth. He frowns, wondering if he's imagining things, but he writes the line again and this time he's certain of it when the words appear on his hand.

*FPS*

"Is there a problem, Mr Evans?" Umbridge asks innocently, noticing him pause, and then she shrieks when her window explodes outwards. Harry doesn't even flinch. He carefully lays the quill down beside the parchment.

"Yes," he says quietly. "There is."

Umbridge flicks her wand, casting _reparo_ on the window, then looks at him, still a little shaky. "I don't see that there is. Continue with your lines."

"No."

Umbridge looks shocked, then outraged. "Another night's detention. Now continue."

The quill bursts into flames. Harry's chair scrapes against the floor as he stands up. The ornamental plates hanging on the walls start to shake and a couple fall and smash to the floor.

"I am sick and tired of adults abusing me," he says, voice still quiet but rising in volume as he speaks. "I'm sick and tired of adults telling me what to do. Of adults thinking they can control my life just because I'm _a fucking kid!_" he screams, and every one of the plate smashes, sending shards of china flying across the room. Harry shields himself; Umbridge is not so clever and she cries out as a few pieces cut across her face and hands.

*FPS*

_That. Was. BRILLIANT. It's about time you stood up to these people instead of running away._

*FPS*

"Expelled!" Umbridge cries, shaking in her seat. "I will have you expelled for this!"

"I honestly don't care."

The door opens and McGonagall looks in, breaking off in the middle of asking what all the noise is about as she notices the mess of broken plates and the cuts on Umbridge.

"Oh Merlin," she breathes, and while to Umbridge it might sound like an exclamation of surprise, Harry hears it for what it really is—a sad remark of realisation at what's happened and what it means.

"Professor McGonagall, fetch Professor Snape," Umbridge orders, getting to her feet and moving around the desk. "I am taking Evans here to the headmaster's office. He'll be expelled for this."

McGonagall looks at Harry as he turns, like she's hoping he'll say something to defend himself, but he says nothing and his expressions remains stoic. McGonagall sighs sadly, turning away without another word.

*FPS*

Umbridge tries to grab Harry's arm to drag him to Dumbledore's office, but Harry jerks away and stalks out the door, broken china crunching under foot.

"I believe the quickest route to the headmaster's office is this way," he says gesturing down the hall. Umbridge hurries out the room after him, lifting her chin and looking down her nose at him.

"I will lead the way," she says, pretending she'd not heard him speak. "Follow me."

*FPS*

Dumbledore is surprised to see them at first, then politely curious as Umbridge explains what happened, but when his eyes flick to Harry he seems almost disappointed.

*FPS*

When Snape arrives, Dumbledore holds up a hand to stop Umbridge explaining everything again.

"I would like to hear Mr Evans' side of the story."

"It's precisely as she said," Harry says coolly. "I had a justly deserved detention, but when I found out I would be writing lines with a quill that appeared to be cursed to carve the words into my hand as I wrote, I became angry. I shouted at her and in an accidental magical outburst destroyed every one of the ugly as fuck plates in her office. It's really not a big loss if you ask me."

Snape closes his eyes briefly, jaw clenching, and Harry knows if Umbridge weren't there Snape would be calling him a fool, a dunderhead, an idiot, and whatever other insult came to mind.

*FPS*

Dumbledore's frowning, but when he speaks it's not to scold Harry.

"Blood Quills are dark magic items."

Harry expects Umbridge to at least look a little guilty at this, but she merely lifts her chin. "They're perfectly legal."

"But not condoned for use as punishment within Hogwarts."

"I'm sure you haven't forgotten Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five, Headmaster, which gives the High Inquisitor—that is, me—supreme authority over all punishments pertaining to the students of Hogwarts."

"I have not," Dumbledore replies calmly, but Harry wonders if he's seething underneath. If he is, Harry wishes he had half as much control over his emotions as Dumbledore does. "However I'm sure you're aware that dark magic can cause certain witches' and wizards' magic to behave oddly. Mr Evans cannot be held accountable for the damage wrought by your insistence on bringing him into contact with dark magic."

Umbridge glares at him, clenching and unclenching her fists for several moments as she tries to come up with a response to that, but eventually all she says is, "That does not excuse his actions. I warned you, Dumbledore, that if he stepped out of line again after sneaking into Hogsmeade in October that I wanted him out of this school and I mean it. He is a bad influence on the rest of the students. He cannot be seen to be getting away with attacking the High Inquisitor. You can't protect him anymore, Dumbledore. I'm personally writing to Minister Fudge and the Chairman of the Board of Governors tonight."

*FPS*

"I cannot guarantee you anything if Henry Athelstan agrees to a meeting to discuss this, Harry," Dumbledore warns him when Umbridge has gone. "My influence with the Board of Governors is minimal."

"I understand, sir," Harry replies. "You warned me in October about behaving myself, but I couldn't sit there and use that quill. I appreciate anything you can do for me, but I accept full responsibility for my actions."

Dumbledore nods. "I will do my very best for you; I certainly have no desire to see you expelled. Professor Snape will escort you back to Slytherin now."

*FPS*

_I'm sure we can make the most of it if you do get expelled. You hardly need a Hogwarts education anyway. You can spend your last two years on this planet doing something worthwhile. Perhaps you'll even find a way out of your demon deal without pesky things like homework and boyfriends getting in the way of your research._

*FPS*

The looks and murmurs that greet Harry's entrance to Slytherin tell him the story's already got around. He ignores them and heads straight to the dorms, where Cid and Tyler instantly pester him.

"Everyone's saying you trashed Umbridge's office," Tyler says. "It true?"

"Yes."

"Awesome," Cid declares, grinning. "About time someone took that bitch down a notch."

"They're talking about expelling me."

Their amusement dies.

"Not awesome," Tyler says, at the same moment Orion Devaux declares from across the room, "Well deserved."

"Fuck you, Devaux," Cid says. Orion merely looks smug.

"It's about time they got rid of some of the trash in this school."

His bed falls apart.

*FPS*

Orion isn't injured and a house elf has the bed repaired in minutes, but when Snape comes to inspect the damage his eyes flick knowingly to Harry, who meets his gaze unflinching. Snape looks away again, expression unchanging, but Harry would swear he can hear the man's teeth grinding.

*FPS*

Draco bursts into the room shortly after Snape and the house elf have left. Orion's gone too, having shot a dirty look at Harry, Tyler, and Cid as if he blames them for his bed breaking despite there being no evidence for it.

"I was in the library," Draco says to Harry. "People are saying you've been expelled for assaulting Umbridge. Tell me it's not true."

"It's half true."

"Which half?"

"I got angry, my magic had an outburst, Umbridge got injured, and now she's writing to the Minister for Magic and the Chairman of the Board of Governors about the possibility of expelling me."

"They can't expel you for accidental magic."

"I shouted at her too."

"You should probably fuck tonight," Cid tells them. "Might be your last chance."

Harry turns red and doesn't look at anyone. Tyler rolls his eyes. Draco looks at Cid disdainfully.

"What we do tonight is none of your concern."

Cid shrugs. "Just saying."

*FPS*

"You alright?"

Harry doesn't answer. He and Draco are in one corner of the common room, Draco sat on one of the sofas while Harry lays across it, his head in the other boy's lap.

"They won't expel you."

"They might. I've been an idiot. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"Why did you?"

Harry fiddles with the seam along the edge of the sofa cushions. Draco's fingers are combing through his hair, something he normally finds relaxing but at the moment he's too worried.

"For detention I had to write lines with this quill that carved the words into my hand as I wrote. Dumbledore said it was dark magic but Umbridge said it was legal, but how can it be? I mean, it's torture practically. It can't be allowed."

"Dumbledore would know if it was illegal. The Ministry might be cracking down on him but if Umbridge was using something illegal he'd have her out of the castle before you can say 'fired'. It can be used in your defence though. Dark magic affects people and you've clearly got quite volatile magic anyway."

"Dumbledore did say something about it precipitating an outburst, but Umbridge still wants me expelled because of my record. Well, mostly because she just doesn't like me, I think, but she's claiming it's because of my record."

*FPS*

He can't get to sleep that night. He tries to convince himself that he'll be fine, but alone in the dark of his own bed, he can't seem to find the confidence he'd had in Dumbledore's office that even if he's expelled, he'll be alright. It doesn't help that the voice is quite taken with the idea of leaving Hogwarts and devoting his entire time to finding a way out of the demon deal, something he's not yet been able to do. As extensive as the Hogwarts library is, it doesn't have what he needs and he's starting to think he's going to have to look towards more obscure texts, possibly even ones focused on Dark Arts.

*FPS*

"Draco? Draco?"

Draco groans, rolls over, and blinks up at Harry sleepily. "Evans? Wha' time is it?"

"About three. Can I sleep with you?"

By way of answer, Draco shuffles over and lifts the covers. Harry climbs into the bed, turns on his side to lie with his back to Draco's bare chest, and links his fingers with Draco's when the other boy slings his arm over Harry. Draco's asleep again within moments, but Harry lays awake, just listening to him breathe for an hour before he finally drifts to sleep as well.

*FPS*

Draco shakes him awake a few hours later. He's already washed and dressed, but he waits as Harry sluggishly shuffles back to his own dorm to get dressed. He doesn't have time for a shower but he Wishes himself clean. It's not the same but it'll do.

*FPS*

He's barely sat down at breakfast when Hermione comes rushing over from the Gryffindor table, completely ignoring the dirty looks she gets from more than a few of the other Slytherins.

"Everyone's saying you've been expelled for trying to kill Umbridge. It's not true, is it?"

Draco, sat opposite Harry, sneers. "You're supposed to be smart, Granger."

"I'm not talking to you, Malfoy."

"No, it's not true," Harry says before the two of them can get into a fight. "Yet."

"What's that supposed to mean? What happened?"

"I lost my temper in detention last night and now she's trying to get me expelled. She's contacting the Board of Governors and Minister Fudge."

"But they can't expel you for losing your temper!"

"They can when I've already been in serious trouble this year. And I didn't just lose my temper; my magic lashed out. I trashed her office and injured her."

"But something must have set you off. You wouldn't have done it for no reason and if there was a trigger then you can defend yourself."

"I have thought of that, Hermione," he tells her, yawning and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He'd desperately like to go back to bed. "Dumbledore's doing what he can to help me. I'll be fine, Hermione," he assures her even though he doesn't really believe it himself, but she's worrying at her lip and looking ready to rush off to the library and start compiling a complete legal defence for him. "Dumbledore won't let them expel me."

*FPS*

"You don't believe that, do you?" Draco asks when Hermione's left. Harry looks over the various breakfast food laid out on the table and finds there's absolutely nothing that appeals to him. "You'll need a more positive attitude if there is a meeting with the Chairman of the Board of Governors," he says when Harry doesn't respond. "People react to confidence, Evans."

Harry frowns, pouring himself some juice after deciding he really can't stomach food right now. "Surely that meeting won't involve me. It'd be the Chairman and Dumbledore and Umbridge."

"And Snape, your godfather, and yourself. They're not going to decide the future of your education without you."

"Why not? Adults always decide everything else without me."

"You have the right to defend yourself, Evans. They'll want to hear your opinion on the matter."

Harry snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure Umbridge is really eager for me to talk."

*FPS*

He's glad to have Potions that morning. Forcing himself to focus on brewing helps take his mind off his potential expulsion and with Snape hovering over them no one dares ask him about what happened, as more than a few people had at breakfast and in the hallways on the way to class. He has Ancient Runes afterwards which is almost as good at focusing his mind, but he's spent so much time studying runes lately that it's become his second best subject and he finds translations noticeably less difficult than he used to, so it doesn't keep his mind as distracted as he'd like.

*FPS*

His nerves have calmed down enough by lunch that he manages to eat three-quarters of a sandwich, but then Snape comes stalking down the hall towards him and delivers news that makes Harry think he might just vomit the sandwich back up again.

"The meeting with the Chairman is at half past four this afternoon. You're to go straight to the headmaster's office after your last class."

*FPS*

"It'll be fine," Tyler reassures him. "You'll get off."

Harry nods but doesn't speak.

*FPS*

He seizes during Transfiguration after lunch and claims he feels too bad afterwards to stay in class. McGonagall sends him to the Hospital Wing and says she'll send a note with Cid to Professor Sprout explaining why he's not in Herbology afterwards. He manages to have a short nap that doesn't refresh him much, and then Madam Pomfrey's shaking him awake and telling him it's time to head up to Dumbledore's office.

*FPS*

He feels like he's got lead in his stomach as he trudges up four floors. Snape's waiting for him beside the stone gargoyle, arms folded over his chest and a slight frown on his face, but when he speaks his voice isn't harsh.

"I have a Draught of Peace if you feel you need one."

Harry considers it, but shakes his head. He should have a clear mind for what's about to happen, even if it means listening to the voice trying to convince him to get himself thrown out.

*FPS*

Sirius and James are in the office with Dumbledore. They don't say anything to Snape when he and Harry enter, but James flicks his gaze between them and Harry thinks he's trying to see how similar they are in looks. Harry thinks James looks a lot better than the last time he'd seen him—he's got more colour in his cheeks now and the shadows under his eyes are much less obvious.

Sirius stands and pulls Harry into a hug.

"We're going to sort this out, alright, kid?"

Harry nods, feeling a little less nervous with Sirius there. It's not much, but it's something.

"Sit down and tell me what happened."

*FPS*

"Sounds like this Umbridge woman deserved it for using a Blood Quill on him," James says when Harry's finished, rubbing subconsciously at his collarbone. Sirius sees the movement and his jaw clenches; James notices, jerks his hand down and doesn't look at him. Harry misses the brief exchange, but Snape and Dumbledore don't.

"Why are you here?" Harry asks. "I don't mind really, but I thought it'd be just Sirius."

"Remus was out,"

Snape sneers. "And you were too scared to be left alone?"

"Severus," Dumbledore scolds.

"When you've spent fourteen years locked in a dungeon, Snape, and six months in a psych ward, then you can comment on my mental state," James says coldly. "Until then, keep your big nose out of it."

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore says warningly, "this is not the time for your petty rivalry."

All three men look like they want to object to his phrasing, but there's a knock at the door and when Harry turns his magical eye on it, the leaden feeling in his stomach gets worse as he sees Umbridge with a man he assumes is the chairman.

*FPS*

Harry's only slightly put at ease by the Chairman's friendly demeanour. He introduces himself as Henry Athelstan and greets each of them with a handshake before taking a seat. The tables holding all the various little instruments have been moved aside, making space for a small circle of chairs and even Dumbledore comes out from behind his desk to sit with them.

"Right," Mr Athelstan begins, "I understand there was a bit of an incident last night. Mr Evans, why don't you begin? Don't be nervous, we're just having a chat, so let's start with why you were in detention..."


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews!

**Chapter 51**

The sound of his wand snapping seems to echo through the room.

*FPS*

The moment Umbridge and Mr Athelstan have left, Snape's forcing a vial of Draught of Peace into his hand and urging him to drink it. He does just because it's the only thing to do right now that makes sense, and he's never been more grateful to have silence in his head.

*FPS*

Hermione, Neville, Cid, Tyler, and Draco are waiting outside the headmaster's office when Harry leaves with Snape.

"He looks calm," Tyler mutters to Cid. "Why does he look calm when Umbridge looked smug?"

"Shock?"

Draco's the one to ask Harry, "What happened?"

"I've been expelled."

Hermione gasps and lifts both hands to her mouth. Cid swears and Snape pretends not to hear. Tyler curses Umbridge under his breath. Neville's expression is pitying. Draco just looks shocked.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" Tyler asks.

"Draught of Peace," Harry says simply.

*FPS*

At Snape's command, Hermione, Neville, Cid, and Tyler head down to the Great Hall for dinner, but Draco insists on accompanying Harry all the way to Slytherin. Snape's presence is all anyone needs to know what the outcome of the meeting had been and whispers break out as Harry crosses the common room and heads for the dorms.

*FPS*

"You don't have to help me pack."

"I have to do something."

*FPS*

When it's done, he stands facing Draco and reaches up to cup his cheek. "Sorry I'll miss your match on Saturday."

"You're going to appeal this, aren't you?"

"Not sure there's much point. Umbridge will never let me back in."

"Umbridge won't be here forever. She'll be gone by the end of the year."

"What makes you say that?"

"She's the Defence teacher," Draco points out. "They never last more than a year."

"You'll have to tell me what she turns out to be. Well," he says when Draco looks puzzled, "Quirrell was host to Voldemort's disembodied spirit, Lockhart was a coward, Remus a werewolf, and Moody a Death Eater in disguise, so you'll have to let me know what she turns out to be."

Draco smiles despite himself. "Speaking of Quirrell, everyone said it was Harry Potter who was involved in what happened to him. Was it?"

"Nope," Harry says. "It was Harry Evans."

*FPS*

"We should probably break up."

It hurts him to say it. As hesitant as he'd been about the relationship in the beginning, he definitely doesn't want it to end now. But he can't expect Draco to stay with him when Harry's on the other side of the country and they're hardly going to see each other ever again.

"I'm willing to try a long distance relationship."

Harry smiles sadly. "You already gave up sex for me. We're teenagers, Draco, it's not like we're supposed to last forever."

"But we're supposed to think we are."

"I was never one for idealism. It ends in disappointment too often."

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

*FPS*

It's long and deep and Harry thinks they really should have kissed like this before, but Harry had deemed it sexual (he shouldn't have, he thinks, because it's really not) and Draco hadn't wanted to tempt himself into getting unnecessarily turned on. But neither of them think of that now, just cling to each other, bodies pressed together, Draco's hands in Harry's hair and Harry's hands clutching Draco's robes.

"I don't want to go," he says when the kiss ends, leaving him slightly breathless and unwilling to let go of Draco at all. If not for the Draught of Peace, he thinks he might be crying right now.

*FPS*

"Evans, it—" Snape breaks off after entering, scowls at the two boys' position, then finishes, "it's time to go. Potter and Black are waiting for you in the Entrance Hall."

That makes Draco look up in surprise. "James Potter?"

"Obviously."

Draco continues to look surprised for a moment, then schools his expression. "Right. He's his father. Of course he'd be here."

"You don't have to come up with me," Harry says, reluctantly pulling away from him. "I never told them about us and you probably don't want to see James."

"I... don't know, but he probably won't want to see me."

Harry nods. He bends to grab the end of his trunk with one hand, Wishing it to be lightweight as he lifts it, then looks at Draco again. "Well... bye, Draco."

Instead of echoing the sentiment, Draco gestures to Harry's left eye. "You should put the blue one in. Umbridge can't tell you not to wear it now."

Harry smiles. He lifts his free hand, covers his left eye, then lowers it again, removing the glamour.

"I've always had the blue one in."

*FPS*

He kisses Draco one last time, chastely, then turns away and drags his trunk to the door, only to stop, drop the trunk and turn back to him. Snape gives an aggravated sigh and Draco frowns.

"Give me your hand," Harry tells him. Draco does so, looking slightly bemused, and Harry turns it so it sits palm up then lays his own hand against it. Still holding Draco's steady with his left, he slowly lifts his right hand and Draco's face goes from bemused to puzzled to wide-eyed amazement when Harry finally takes his hand away, leaving an intrinsically detailed blue glass butterfly on his palm, as delicate as the real thing and fluttering its wings slightly.

"So you don't forget me."

"Evans, that's..."

"It's unbreakable, too."

Draco can't find a word to express what he thinks of it and settles for saying quietly, "Thank you, Harry."

"See you, Draco."

*FPS*

Sirius and James are standing with Professor McGonagall in the Entrance Hall. James is even more restless than usual, eyes flicking nervously towards the small groups of students who are doing a terrible job of pretending not to stare at him and Sirius. Harry goes over and drops his trunk on the floor by them.

"Can I go say bye to my friends?"

"Of course," McGonagall says, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder.

*FPS*

He goes to Cid and Tyler first, the Slytherin table being nearest to the entrance. The hall goes quiet but not silent, whispers and pointing hands following him. He ignores them, coming to a halt a quarter of the way up the Slytherin table where his two friends are sat. Tyler gets up and Harry thinks he's going to hug him, but to his great surprise the other boy grabs his face in both hands and plants a kiss on his lips.

"I've made it my mission to kiss everyone in our year," he says afterwards while Harry splutters. "Seems this was my last chance so I thought I'd take it. Sorry."

"Wha- uh... it's, um... fine?"

"I'm not kissing you," Cid says, but he stands and gives Harry a hug. "Keep in touch."

"I will."

*FPS*

He doesn't even reach the Gryffindor table. Hermione scrambles up from her seat and runs over, meeting him just by the end of the Hufflepuff table and slinging her arms around his neck.

"I'm going to miss you," she says as Neville gets up and comes over too. Harry hugs her back.

"I'm going to miss you too, Hermione. I'll still write."

"You'd better. I don't care if you're expelled; I'm not losing the first friend I ever had."

He smiles fondly. "Me neither."

He gives her one last squeeze then they break apart and he turns to Neville. "Look after yourself, Neville."

"Me? You're the one that need to be careful. You're an easier target for You Know Who without Hogwarts' protections."

Harry hadn't even thought of that, but he doesn't linger on it now.

"I'll be alright. See you around, I guess." He holds out his hand, but Neville pulls him into a hug, patting his back once before breaking it.

"See you, Harry."

He start to turn away then pauses, leaning close. "When you finished with Patronus Charms in the D.A.," he murmurs, "I was thinking we—you should try learning a few basic healing spells. I know it's not defence but they're really useful."

Hermione and Neville exchange surprised glances. "We already told people it's over. Without you..."

"No, you have to continue it. It's too important and you guys can run it. Get the others who are good to help out. Cho Chang's not bad, and the Weasley twins are actually pretty good even if they are goofballs."

*FPS*

Umbridge is stalking down from the staff table, clearly unhappy about their whispered conversation and ready to throw Harry out, but before she reaches them, fire flares in the air over the staff table and people shriek in surprise. Umbridge whirls, staring up at the flaming words floating overhead.

_LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION_.

Harry winks at Hermione and Neville as laughter and cheers fill the hall once people get past their surprise. Reactions among the teachers are mixed, but Dumbledore's got a twinkle in his eye and doesn't make any move to dispel the words. Umbridge spins, face furious as she stalks up to Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

*FPS*

"You!"

"What about me?" Harry asks.

"You did this!"

Harry affects a confused expression. "Hang on, let me get this straight: you're accusing me of casting magic when you personally saw my wand being snapped less than an hour ago? I don't even have the pieces; Sirius does. So how exactly am I supposed to have done that?"

Umbridge's hands tremble with suppressed rage, but she can't argue with his logic. Instead she turns on Hermione and Neville.

"Which of you did this? Tell me or I'll put you both in detention!"

"Neither of them did it, you ugly cow," Harry says, and there are gasps from the people nearest. "What?" he adds challengingly when Umbridge opens her mouth. "I'm not a student here anymore, so you can't punish me for insulting you. You're an ugly, toad-faced bitch and when you die I'm going to be standing alongside hell's denizens and laughing as they give you the justice you deserve."

*FPS*

"'Long live the revolution'?" Sirius asks when Harry leaves the hall, having heard the noise and looked in to see what was going on. Harry shrugs.

"It was spur of the moment. I couldn't think of anything else."

Sirius laughs, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pulling Harry against his side in a brief hug. "Come on, we're going down to the Three Broomsticks for dinner before we go home."

*FPS*

McGonagall escorts them down to the school gates. James looks a little more comfortable away from prying eyes. When they reach the gates, McGonagall turns to Harry and takes a scroll of parchment from her pocket.

"Mr Evans, I never said anything to you because Professor Dumbledore always refused, but I've felt for a long time that you should have been in the year above. Your skill in practical magic aside, you've always proven yourself well studied in theory, something the other teachers tell me is true of their classes as well as mine."

"Thank you, professor," he says, sincere but a little confused. She holds out the scroll.

"This is a list of the topics covered in all your fifth year classes. It is my belief that with perhaps a few months of focused studying, you would be ready to take your OWLs."

Harry takes the scroll, still confused. "They snapped my wand. And I'm not a student."

McGonagall's face gets the same expression she uses in class when someone doesn't know the answer to an easy question. "You were expelled for misbehaviour, Mr Evans, not illegal activity. Buy another one and contact the Ministry's Department of Education directly. I refuse to let Dolores Umbridge squash the potential of one of the finest young wizards I've ever met. You'll find that other wizarding schools would be perfectly willing—even eager—to accept you as a student. In my personal opinion, you would make a fine addition to any institute of learning and they would be lucky to have you."

He flushes, honestly touched by her words. "I'd have been glad to have you as a Head of House," he tells her, but to his horror she looks as though she's about to cry. She doesn't, thankfully, just sniffs, swallows thickly, and nods.

"Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, professor."

*FPS*

They get a private booth at the back of the Three Broomsticks. While they're waiting for their meals to be brought to them, Sirius slides a small vial of purple potion across the table.

"Snape said it'd be wearing off soon."

Harry doesn't even hesitate to down the potion. He knows himself well enough to know that when he has to deal with his expulsion, it's not going to be pretty and the patrons of the Three Broomsticks—not to mention Madam Rosmerta, the owner—would hardly appreciate whatever destruction would be wrought by the inevitable magical outburst.

*FPS*

They talk of inconsequential things as they eat. James and Sirius start reminiscing about their school days and trips to Hogsmeade and Harry listens, snorting pumpkin juice up his nose when they make him laugh. He manages to forget, for a while, that he's been expelled and just enjoys a nice meal with his godfather.

*FPS*

They take the Knight Bus home. Harry doesn't like it. For one, it's horribly bumpy and the seats aren't even stuck down, so they slide about with each vomit-inducing turn the bus makes; and secondly, Stan Shunpike, the conductor, had immediately noticed Harry's scar and started gawping. He's glad when they arrive in Coleford and finally disembark.

*FPS*

Lupin's waiting for them inside and his expression turns instantly sad when he sees Harry.

"I'm sorry," he says sympathetically.

Harry shrugs, dragging his trunk over to the stairs. "I'll manage."

"Draught of Peace," Sirius explains to Remus as Harry starts dragging the trunk upstairs. "Harry, I want you back down here in ten minutes, with a cloak."

"'Kay."

"So he's not actually felt it yet?" Lupin says quietly. Sirius shakes his head.

"I'm going to take him out to the forest to try and keep damage to a minimum."

"Isn't he a little old to be having magical outbursts?" James asks them. "Shouldn't it have settled down by now?"

"He's got a lot more power than most people, James," Lupin says, "and it's nothing like anyone else's magic. We can't apply the normal rules to him."

*FPS*

In his room, Harry dumps his trunk down and shuts and locks his door. He lets Hedwig out of her cage and she immediately goes to the window. She hadn't liked the Knight Bus any more than he did; he lets her out and watches her fly off then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wand. He couldn't bare to hand it over to be snapped, so he'd taken the voice's suggestion and duplicated it in the moment he'd reached into his pocket, drawing out a false replica to hand over to Mr Athelstan. He knows he can never use it again, but he still wants to keep it, so he digs some spellotape from his trunk, opens his desk draw and tapes his wand to the bottom of it.

*FPS*

Harry rages when the potion finally wears off. He screams and shouts and more than a few trees get damaged. Sirius just stands by and watches until the anger burns itself out and Harry drops to his knees and bursts into tears, then Sirius pulls him against his chest and lets him sob. Neither of them are surprised when he has a seizure.

*FPS*

Harry spends the evening sat on the sofa with Volume 7 of _The Complete Encyclopedia of British Wizarding History_, a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and Padfoot sitting on his feet.

*FPS*

_So have you thought about what you want to do with yourself now?_

"No, and I don't want to."

_You have to._

"Not right now I don't. I've only just been expelled. I get to have a little time to deal with that and feel miserable before I start thinking about what I'm going to do."

*FPS*

He's confused the next morning when he wakes up in his bed at home, then he remembers everything that happened the day before and miserably burrows back under the covers to go to sleep again, Kiwi clutched against his chest. She a small comfort.

*FPS*

He manages to get away with burying himself in books for three whole days before Sirius clears his throat during dinner and asks, "Have you given any thought about what you want to do?"

"No," Harry mutters without looking up from his chicken.

"It's alright," Sirius is quick to reassure him. "You can take some time to think it over. We realise it's a lot to consider."

*FPS*

Much that he'd like to continue to ignore the issue, he knows that it's impractical and the voice is starting to get impatient.

_We have better things to be researching than history you already know. Demons, remember? We have to figure out how to get you out of your deal._

"There might not be a way out," he says with a sigh, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

_MIGHT. How stupid would it be if you died because you didn't work hard enough to find a way to live?_

"How stupid would it be to spend the last two years of my life pouring over books trying to find something that doesn't exist?"

_You LIKE pouring over books. Besides, what else are you going to do? Take your OWLs? _it sneers.

"Why not?" Harry responds defensively.

_What's the point? You can't do anything with them. You'll be dead before you're able to start working—scratch that, you'll be dead before you even get to take your NEWTs._

"I could take them early, like with the OWLs."

_Oh yes_, the voice drawls sarcastically. _Great. Lets spend the rest of your life studying to take exams that will serve you absolutely no purpose. Do you think Crowley's going to care if you get five NEWTs? Do you think the demons in hell will torture you less because you're a bookworm who memorised a tonne of crap? Hint: the answer's no._

"Tell me something, will I have to listen to you in hell? Because if not that's a good reason to let myself get eaten."

_You don't mean that. You missed me when I was gone. You'd miss me in hell. I'd be the only good company you'd have._

*FPS*

"Harry, can I have a word?"

"I haven't decided what I want to do yet," he tells Lupin, looking up from the book he's reading. Lupin smiles briefly.

"It's not about that." He takes a seat on Harry's bed and Harry turns in his desk chair to face him, curious. "Is everything alright? Aside from the obvious worries about your education, I mean."

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just wanted to remind you that we're here for you and if you ever need to talk about anything, we'll listen without judging."

Harry frowns at him. "What's this about?"

"We're just concerned about you, that's all."

"Why?" he pushes. "Are you worried I'm going to do something because I got expelled? Like have a mental breakdown or something?"

"The possibility had occurred to us, yes," he says slowly.

"I'm not crazy!"

"I never said that," Lupin says calmly. "But a shock like this can keep people from thinking straight. It's expected that you'll have trouble adjusting to things. Like I said, I just want to remind you that Sirius and I, and even James, are here for you if you need to talk about anything.

* * *

**A/N: **I know its poor story-telling to include events unnecessary to the narrative, but alas, I freely confess that snapping Harry's wand was purely for the dramatic effect of that first line and so I can give him a new one of my own design. So hush! A writer's allowed the occasional self-indulgence, is she not?


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

"What do you think I should do?"

It's been over a week since he was expelled and he still doesn't have a clue what to do with himself, but now he's starting to get depressed about it. He'd spent a few days in sulky annoyance, insisting that he wasn't going to do anything because there was no point, and why should he work to do anything when the government itself had conspired to get him kicked out of school?

But that had passed, sped on by the voice, who'd spent the entire time viciously insulting him for being pathetic, and now he was just left feeling miserable and lost. The adults have clearly been discussing it, however, because Sirius pauses in the middle of eating dinner to answer immediately.

"We think it'd be a good idea if you tried to get your OWLs."

"Then what?"

"You can apply for a position at another school, although the sooner you do that the better."

"Like Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?"

"Not Durmstrang," Sirius says with a shake of his head. "I wouldn't let you go there if it was the only school on earth. But Beauxbatons is an option, yeah, or there's ones in Brazil, Japan, Australia, and the States. There's three over there actually, one in California, one somewhere in the middle I think, and the Salem Witches' Institute."

"I'm not a witch," Harry points out.

"And not everyone killed in the Salem witch trials was female," Lupin reminds him with a smile. "They do accept male students and it is the best magical school in the world."

*FPS*

"They're really far away, though. And I can't speak French or Japanese or... what do they speak in Brazil?"

"Portuguese, I believe," Lupin answers. "The other option is you're home schooled."

"What, by you guys?"

"I don't think I'd be a great teacher," James says, "or Sirius."

"Hey, I'd be a great teacher."

"Maybe if the class was on how to annoy one's teachers," Lupin says dryly, then to Harry he adds, "But no, we'd hire tutors."

"Have you considered what you'd want to take at NEWT level?" James asks. "And what you want to do for a career?"

Harry shrugs, staring at his dinner and suddenly not feeling hungry. It was bad enough thinking of his NEWTs when he knew he would die before he could take them; thinking about possible career options was even worse.

"Give it some thought," Lupin says gently, noticing his mood dropping. "But I strongly advise taking your OWLs. At the very least, the time spent studying for them will give you a few extra months to consider what you'll do afterwards."

*FPS*

Harry likes the idea of putting off big decisions and he does want to take his OWLs—it'd be nice to accomplish _something_ worthwhile before he dies, even if it is useless to him—so he finally opens the scroll of parchment McGonagall had given him. Each of his subjects is listed with the topics covered most often in the OWLs, plus a note saying that the Department of Education is required to provide mock exams to all OWL level students, including home schooled ones, so be sure to ask about it when he contacts them.

At the end there's also a brief message from McGonagall saying that all correspondence in and out of the school is being monitored, something which makes his heart sink. The thought of Umbridge reading the letters to his friends isn't a happy one—then he hopes his friends have been told, because it'd be a disaster if Hermione, Neville, Cid, or Tyler wrote to him and mentioned the D.A. only for Umbridge to read their letters and find out.

*FPS*

He takes a trip to Diagon Alley with Lupin and James. James is still edgy around large crowds, but the Alley isn't too busy when they get there and they only plan to visit Ollivanders and Flourish and Blotts. As they enter the wand shop, Harry wonders how long it'll take him to find a wand this time, given that he felt like he'd been through half the shop last time. He hasn't mentioned to his guardians that he still has his original wand; he's not sure they'd really approve. Sirius had given him the broken pieces of the fake one and Harry had vanished them without a thought.

*FPS*

"Ah, Mr Evans. I did wonder if I'd be seeing you again. I was sorry to hear about what happened."

Harry just shuffles uncomfortably—the expulsion of the Boy Who Lived had made the papers, unsurprisingly—and is glad when Ollivander turns to James and Lupin.

"Mr Lupin. Red oak, dragon heartstring. A very resilient wand."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr Potter, it's good to see you. Mahogany, eleven inches, quite pliable, I recall."

James nods, looking a little startled that Ollivander remembers and uncomfortable when Ollivander watches him for a long moment before turning back to Harry.

"Let me see what I can do for you... quite the tricky customer, as I recall," he muses as he starts pulling boxes from his shelves. "Curious wand that chose you in the end, I must say."

"It was?" Harry asks as Ollivander brings over a pile of boxes. "Why?"

Ollivander pauses in the middle of handing Harry a ten inch ash wand with unicorn hair. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Evans. It just so happens that phoenix feather in your original wand came from a bird who gave one other feather for my use. It's curious that that wand chose you," he says, eyes flicking to the unconcealed scar on Harry's forehead, "when it's brother gave you that scar."

_Well now that _is _curious._

"Oh," Harry says. "Um... I didn't know wands could have brothers."

"Oh yes. Cores which come from the same source create brother wands and when used against each other, they'll cancel each other out and, if forced to battle, cause _priori incantatem_."

"The reverse spell effect? Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Ollivander says, "but perhaps, like many brothers, they simply do not wish to bring harm to each other. Now, gives this a wave..."

*FPS*

Once again he seems to go through half the shop, but instead of eventually finding one that suits him, Ollivander considers Harry thoughtfully.

"If I may, Mr Evans, I realise you're quite eager to have a wand again, but are you in dire need of one immediately or would you be able to wait a short while? A month, perhaps."

"Um... I guess I can wait. Why?"

"I think it might be prudent to custom make a wand. I don't often do it but sometimes a wizard requires it. I recall that, when I inspected your wand for the Triwizard tournament, it was unusually worn and it seems to me that a more tailored wand might be suited to you. Perhaps with... might I ask, and without prejudice, are the rumours of you being a Parselmouth true?"

"Yes," Harry says warily.

"As I said, I enquire without prejudice, but snake scales are occasionally used as wand cores. I don't use them, but I think for you I might make the exception. Possibly even a basilisk scale... tricky to obtain, but... yes, I think... combined with acacia..."

"Professor Snape has basilisk scales," Harry says, quite taken with the idea of a custom made wand. "Or he did a few years ago. He might still have some and he'd probably sell you a few." He pauses, wondering if he should say his next bit but deciding to go ahead, "If you mentioned it's for me, he'd probably definitely give you some."

"Is that so? Well I will certainly contact him. I will send you an owl when I'm done; you can expect it in a month or so, no more than two."

*FPS*

"So you won't acknowledge Snape as your father, but you will use him when it suits your purposes?" Lupin remarks as they leave the shop.

"Why not? He seemed to think that parents are only good for getting material objects for their kids; why shouldn't I?"

"What do you mean?" James asks, frowning, but Harry shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter. He's a bastard; I don't want to talk about him."

*FPS*

In Flourish and Blotts Harry picks up _The Standard Books of Spells, Grade 5_ and an Arithmancy textbook for his OWL studies, but also can't resist a recently released book on the sixteenth century vampire uprising which claimed to have new evidence on how it began.

"Now what are you looking for?" Lupin asks exasperatedly when Harry continues to browse the shelves.

"Stuff on demons."

"I'm fairly certain the OWLs don't contain anything about demons."

"It's a personal project I've been working on, but the Hogwarts library doesn't have that much on them, even in the restricted section."

"Why do you want to know about demons?" James asks him, carrying a book on Quidditch under his arm.

"Like I said, just a personal project. I read about them and got curious."

*FPS*

He finds one about the classification of demons, which is useful but not really what he's after, and he's forced to agree when the voice in his head points out that the kind of thing he's searching for probably won't be found in a shop like Flourish and Blotts, and insults him for not realising as much himself. He wonders if there's a book store in Knockturn Alley, but he doesn't think Lupin and James will let him go down there.

*FPS*

Lupin notices James slowing as they pass Quality Quidditch Supplies on their way back to the Leaky Cauldron and suggests they go inside.

"I missed Quidditch," James says as they browse the store. "I used to love flying."

"You should get a broom," Harry suggests. "I've got one. We could go flying together."

_That's cute. Some nice step-daddy/step-child bonding. You're adorable. Really._

James looks at him in surprise. "You want to do that?"

"Sure. I like flying but I'm not allowed to on my own because of my seizures so I hardly ever get a chance. Here." He takes James' hand and pulls him over to the wall holding display models of various brooms. "The Firebolt's still the best," he says, pointing to it, "but Draco says the Nimbuses are pretty good, and Cid's got a Cleensweep which he says is great, and it looks like they've got a new model out."

"Draco Malfoy? Are you friends with him?"

Harry tenses, having spoken without thinking. He glances up at James nervously. "He didn't know about you. Him or his mother, they had no idea. It was—"

"I know," James interrupts, looking back to the brooms. "Lucius never told them. I was only asking."

Harry looks around for Lupin, hoping for a little help, but he's over by the counter idly looking through a rack of keyrings.

"So, um... you... you don't mind that I'm friends with Draco?"

"It's not really my place to disapprove of your friends."

"Yeah but... I guess I thought you'd be angry or something."

"I'm not. Which do you think I should get?"

"I don't know."

"What do you have?"

"A Firebolt, but it's kind of a waste when I don't use it so much and it's designed for Quidditch more than just flying around, so I guess it depends what you want."

*FPS*

They leave the shop twenty minutes later, James carrying a brand new Nimbus 2001 and looking pleased. As soon as they get home, Harry rushes up to his room to grab his Firebolt.

"You two be alright on your own?" Sirius asks James as he unwraps the broom in the dining room.

"I'll look after him, Sirius."

"I'm worried about you too, Prongs. It's the first time you've left the house without me or Remus."

"We're only going flying. We'll be fine."

"Alright, I'm just checking. Make sure you keep the pair of you invisible," Sirius says to Harry as he comes in. "The last thing we need is to get in trouble for being seen flying by Muggles."

"They'll never see a thing," Harry assures him, then to James says, "Ready?"

"Ready."

*FPS*

James is hesitant at first, keeping slow alongside Harry, but it doesn't take him long to reacquaint himself with being on a broom and before long he's zooming about, flying circles around Harry, who can't help but grin at the obvious joy on James' face.

*FPS*

The Department of Education responds with information about the OWLs surprisingly quickly. As well as mock exams for all his subjects, there's a letter explaining that if he's prepared to take the OWLs in June, then he can do so as a visitor at Hogwarts alongside the rest of the fifth years. Otherwise he'll have to wait until August after the Hogwarts students' exams have been marked and their results sent out. He starts studying harder and longer, determined to take and pass them in June. Not only does he want to prove that he can, but he doesn't want to miss the opportunity to see his friends.

*FPS*

A few days later, he wakes up and finds an envelope on his desk. There's no news articles this time, just the card with the Dark Mark and a short message: _I can teach you things Hogwarts never could._

*FPS*

"I think we should put a Fidelius Charm on the house," Sirius says later. The four of them are sat around the dining room table, still in pyjamas, the card at the centre.

James shakes his head. "No."

"James, there's Death Eaters sneaking into our _house_. Fidelius might be the only thing that can keep this Assistant fucker out."

"And it'll keep _us _in. I'm not being locked up again."

"It's not locking us up, James," Lupin tries to reassure him. "It's a safety precaution, that's all."

"It's a cage. You guys haven't been trapped in a Fidelius charmed house; I have. I'm not doing it again."

"What if next time it's not just the Assistant?" Sirius says, starting to get angry. "Are you going to keep refusing it when he brings his friends with him—brings _Lucius_? Or Voldemort himself?"

James flinches at the name and seems to shrink in on himself, looking away. Lupin puts a calming hand on Sirius' arm.

*FPS*

"I don't want to be trapped in, either," Harry says. "I want to be able to go flying and stuff."

"You will," Lupin says to him and James. "This isn't like when you went into hiding during the first war. This is just to keep the Assistant and anyone else out, but you don't have to stay stuck up inside all the time."

"Then what's the point of putting a Fidelius up at all?" James retorts. "This Assistant bloke can just as easily get to him outside the house so if you're trying to protect him, it should be all the time."

"He does have a point about that, Remus," Sirius says, and Harry sits up straighter.

"You're not keeping me locked in. I can look after myself, you know."

"He could have killed you last night, kid. He was in and out of here without any of us knowing and Moony's a light sleeper. If anyone should have heard, it was him."

"The Assistant might not even have been here," Harry tries. "I can teleport things between places; he probably can too."

"He still knows where we live. He could turn up here any time and hurt any of us."

"I doubt he's going to do that. Voldemort wants me working for him; breaking into my home and attacking any of you is hardly going to convince me."

Sirius doesn't look convinced.

*FPS*

_If they're so desperate to keep the Assistant out, you could put up some wards. A little Wishing and we can probably keep even him out._

"Oh!"

All three adults look at him and Harry echoes the voice's suggestion. "It's not the Fidelius so we don't have to stay inside, but it's some extra protection."

"Will that work?" Lupin asks. "Even if you're asleep or away?"

"It should do, as long as I word it right."

"I'd rather rely on something we know will work," Sirius says.

"You don't know the Fidelius will work," Harry counters, even though he's pretty sure it will. He can't see how even his magic could get him into a place hidden like that.

"I think maybe we need to take some time to think about it," Lupin suggests.

"I don't," James mutters.

"We've got a month before he'll show up again anyway," Harry says with a shrug. "They've all come at the end of each month."

*FPS*

Hermione's almost in tears as she and Neville are hauled off to the headmaster's office after Umbridge discovers the D.A. It doesn't even make her feel better to see Marietta Edgecombe, Cho Chang's friend who'd always looked reluctant about the D.A., with the word SNEAK written across her face in pimples, the result of the curse Hermione had put on the parchment on which they'd signed their names. She can't bare the thought of getting expelled.

*FPS*

"Harry! Can you come down here please, we have a visitor."

Harry swivels his magical eye to look towards the dining room and is surprised to see none other than Dumbledore sat at the table with a cup of tea and Sirius, Lupin, and James sat with him. He quickly finishes the sentence he's writing and heads downstairs, his shock turning to suspicion as he wonders why Dumbledore would be here at almost ten o'clock at night. Lupin has an expression of mixed disapproval and amusement, Sirius' is almost proud, and James, as usual, is merely restless, though Harry thinks he looks just a little approving.

*FPS*

"Professor," he greets, hovering in the doorway.

"Hello, Harry , it's good to see you again."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Have you done something that would get you in trouble?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you're quite safe," Dumbledore assures him with a smile. "Would you join us?"

*FPS*

"What's this about?" he asks, moving over to sit beside Sirius.

"Earlier this evening," Dumbledore begins, "I found myself quite unexpectedly a fugitive from the hands of the law."

"Oh," Harry says. "Um... have you come to ask Sirius for advice on avoiding capture?"

Lupin looks a little disapproving of his comment, but Sirius gives a bark of laughter and James smiles, as does Dumbledore.

"I shall certainly utilise the opportunity while I'm here, but no, that was not the primary reason for my visit. I'm sure you're wondering why exactly I am wanted for arrest by the Ministry."

"Yeah, but I also know that I can be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive so really, the less I know the better."

"A very wise attitude, but I'm sure the knowledge of my crime will do you no harm. You see, the Ministry is under the belief that I have attempted to create an army of students for the purpose of destabilising the Ministry and overthrowing Cornelius Fudge."

*FPS*

For several long moments Harry and Dumbledore merely stare at each other. Dumbledore's expression is perfectly serene and Harry's trying to decide exactly how to react to such an absurd idea, before remembering that although he silently considered D.A. to stand for Defence Association, the rest of its members did not.

"It wasn't my idea," he says. "I objected to the entire thing, including the name."

"You're quite lucky that particular objection was over-ruled then," Dumbledore remarks, "otherwise your friends would have been joining you in expulsion. I was able to convince Cornelius that I was solely responsible for the club and leave you friends blame free."

Harry nods understandingly. "I'm sorry they're trying to arrest you," he says sincerely, but he knows Dumbledore can hear his unspoken words: 'but I'd rather you than them'.

"Oh, not to worry. Whilst I certainly don't enjoy leaving Hogwarts under the command of Dolores Umbridge, I do find being a fugitive gives one a refreshing amount of personal time."

"Speak for yourself," mutters Sirius.

*FPS*

"I still don't quite understand why you're here," Harry says to Dumbledore.

"I came to see Sirius, Remus, and James, but I wished to congratulate you on taking your education into your own hands, express some exasperation at your insistence on breaking the rules even after my warning, and say how nice it is to finally have our suspicions confirmed regarding the reason for the meeting you held in the Hog's Head pub in October."

"Well, thanks, but I meant it when I said it wasn't my idea. It was Hermione and Neville's. I just sort of got roped into it. As for the rule breaking, blame Sirius' bad influence."

"Hey!"

"You did say you'd taken on the hard job of being a terrible influence on the next generation."

"When did I ever say that?"

"Two years ago," Lupin reminds him, "when we gave him the Marauders' Map."

Sirius thinks about it then shakes his head. "I don't remember, so it didn't happen."

"Didn't you say that to Melissa Hodgins in sixth year when you got drunk and snogged her best friend?" James says. "That mousy girl. Jenna, I think."

"And it worked back then."

"No it didn't. She slapped you."

"Who did?"

"Both of them."

"Well, I don't remember that so it didn't happen either."

*FPS*

"Remus tells me you're planning to take your OWLs," Dumbledore says to Harry, who nods.

"Professor McGonagall suggested it and it seemed as good of an idea as any."

"I'm sure you'll do very well in them."

"Then why didn't you let me skip a year? McGonagall said she asked you to let me move up."

"Indeed she did, but I thought you wouldn't appreciate the attention it would bring you. You have always shown a dislike of anything that makes you stand out."

Harry frowns, but he can't argue with that.

"It's been nice to see you again, Harry," Dumbledore continues, "but it is getting quite late for young men."

He recognises that for the dismissal it is so he gets up to leave, then pauses in the doorway to look back.

"Sir, if you're a fugitive, who's the head teacher now? Is it McGonagall?"

"Unfortunately, I rather suspect it will be Dolores Umbridge."

_You're never getting back into Hogwarts._


End file.
